


Desire (I'm Hungry)

by falloutgirl



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blood Kink, Breeding Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Light BDSM, M/M, More To Add Later, Power Dynamics, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 16:03:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 54,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21412876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falloutgirl/pseuds/falloutgirl
Summary: “A wolf?” Jongin grits out, pushing Junmyeon behind him.“Yes,” Junmyeon says, “this is Mr. Park.”“Please,” Mr. Park says, voice sultry and deep, and Jongin has half a mind to notice that Mr. Park is even taller than him. His eyes are a deep brown, calculating, assessing, and roving up and down Jongin’s body like suddenlyhe’sthe bag of meat. Jongin has only ever met werewolves in passing, and never one this close. Never one this… never one so damn—Jongin meets Mr. Park’s gaze and sees a half smirk lazily sitting on his face. He’s wearing a nice blue button up shirt and khaki slacks, andoh,Jongin thinks,I’m doomed.Mr. Park reaches out a hand, “Please,” he says, “call me Chanyeol.”
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 180
Kudos: 937
Collections: EXO MONSTERFEST 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first, i would like to thank the lovely mod for granting me many extensions when real life got in the way of this fic. secondly, to my dear prompter, i really hope i did this justice. when i saw the prompt on the spreadsheet, i just KNEW i had to write this story. i hope it's come out to your liking.
> 
> title from Desire by Meg Myers. 
> 
> without further ado, enjoy the fic!

_ "As God is my witness, I'll never be hungry again."  _

_ — Gone With The Wind _

_ ~ _

Jongin locks the house door quietly before walking forward. He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve, and it comes away stained red. He knows his entire shirt is probably covered in blood, too. Whatever, he thinks, it’s not his fault… he was just so  _ hungry _ . He tries to tip toe as softly as he can into his room, and he just makes it past the kitchen before the blinding living room light flickers on.

“Oh fuck!” Jongin shouts, covering his face as he tries to adjust his gaze. He looks up slowly, blinking the spots out of his eyes, to see Junmyeon sitting at the table, glasses perched low on his nose, frown on his otherwise immaculate face.

“It’s almost six in the morning,” Junmyeon intones, and his voice is neutral.

“I was out,” Jongin replies, trying to push past Junmyeon. Soon enough, he feels himself body slammed against the wall. Curse Junmyeon and his fucking anciet vampire reflexes,  _ the hag. _

“I can see that,” Junmyeon remarks, scoffing, “you look absolutely filthy.”

Jongin now takes a moment to look down at himself, and sees that his entire shirt is drenched in blood. Not his own, of course. It was just his last snack. There’s dried blood all up and down his arms too, and he knows if he looked in the mirror—contrary to popular belief, he  _ does  _ have a reflection—his entire face would be covered in blood, too. 

“That makes six fucking people in the last two weeks,” Junmyeon says, “sit the fuck down.”

Jongin shrugs Junmyeon’s grip off him, but knows better than to directly disobey his sire. Junmyeon made him—Junmyeon  _ saved  _ him—but that doesn’t stop Jongin from feeling the irritation well up in his mind.

“You are out of fucking control,” Junmyeon speaks, his voice harsh. He is standing in front of Jongin, arms crossed, looking more like an angry father and less like the nearly five hundred year old vampire Jongin knows him to be. “You’re unruly, you’re fucking ruthless—”

“Hey—” Jongin interrupts, anger flaring, but Junmyeon snaps his fingers and he quickly shuts up.

“And you keep fucking killing humans!” Junmyeon finishes, voice raised. In all the decades that they have lived together, Jongin has never seen nor felt Junmyeon’s ferocity directed at him. He wonders, maybe, if their time together is finally up, he wonders, maybe, if Junmyeon is finally going to give  _ him  _ up. Jongin shakes the thoughts out of his head.

“Where’s Baekhyun?” he asks, looking for their third.

“Sleeping,” Junmyeon replies, “as he should be, considering the sun rise was half a fucking hour ago!” Junmyeon runs a hand through his hair, and all at once Jongin registers the near pained expression on his face. Junmyeon looks  _ terrified _ .

“You never stay out this late,” he continues, and Jongin has to look away, “what if you got stuck somewhere where there was no place to hide?”  _ What if I couldn’t save you _ , is what Jongin hears instead.

“I’m fine,” he answers, voice soft, and his anger at Junmyeon is gone, just like that. Jongin doesn’t like to think about that too closely. In fact, he’d much rather be alone in the shower, cleaning off this blood, and then in bed, staring at the ceiling for the next four hours while sleep evades him more and more.

They sit in silence again, Junmyeon pacing back and forth in front of him.

“I just… I just get so hungry,” Jongin blurts out, unable to stop himself, “I’m so  _ hungry  _ all the time.” His voice raises slightly up, in question and in anger.

“I know,” Junmyeon says, and his eyes look soft. “And I’m going to help you—”

“You can’t!” Jongin shouts, and he feels the pit of his stomach drop, feels the hunger that lives inside him grow and grow, until his eyes shift red, bloodthirsty once more.

Junmyeon snaps his fingers, grips Jongin by the neck, the same place where he bit him when he turned him all those years ago, and Jongin falls like a limpet to the ground.

“I have hired a specialist,” Junmyeon says, “look at me.” Jongin looks up from where he’s fallen on the ground, body muscles tense with the effort to rein his emotions in. 

“Who the fuck could that be?” Jongin says rudely, and he’s fortunate enough that Junmyeon doesn’t take the blood thirst rage to heart, fortunate enough that Junmyeon hasn’t tossed him out on his ass years ago, back when this problem first arose, back when he and Baekhyun—

Jongin shakes his head.

“Mr. Park,” Junmyeon says, and out of the shadows, a man steps forward. 

Jongin’s immediate reaction is whipping his head up, as he notices the rather imposing figure Mr. Park cuts in their living room. He’s almost amazed, in a way, that he didn’t notice another person in the house before, but Junmyeon has always been friends with people who are light on their feet, who will notice you before you notice them. The second thing that hits Jongin, all at once, is the smell.  _ Oh my god,  _ he thinks, and feels his internal hackles rise. He gets off the ground lightning quick, and stands in front of Junmyeon protectively. 

“A wolf?” Jongin grits out, pushing Junmyeon behind him, the urge to protect his sire near overwhelming. 

“Yes,” Junmyeon says, and places his hand upon Jongin’s neck again, a placating gesture. “This is Mr. Park.”

“Please,” Mr. Park says, voice sultry and deep, and Jongin has half a mind to notice that Mr. Park is even taller than  _ him _ . His eyes are a deep brown, calculating, assessing, and roving up and down Jongin’s body like suddenly  _ he’s  _ the bag of meat. Jongin has only ever met werewolves in passing, and never one this close. Never one this… never one so damn—

Jongin meets Mr. Park’s gaze and sees a half smirk lazily sitting on his face. He’s wearing a nice blue button up shirt and khaki slacks, and  _ oh,  _ Jongin thinks,  _ I’m doomed _ .

Mr. Park reaches out a hand, “Please,” he says, “call me Chanyeol.”

“You’re a fucking werewolf,” Jongin grits out, still standing between Chanyeol and Junmyeon. He knows what he must look like to this man who is so put together, near entire body covered in dried human blood, teeth sharp and eyes feral. Junmyeon squeezes Jongin’s neck again and Jongin drops his arms—but just barely. He doesn’t take a fighting stance anymore, but he doesn’t let his eyes leave the werewolf for a single second. 

“Yes,” Junmyeon says, this time pushing past Jongin to stand between him and Chanyeol. “Mr. Park here is a werewolf.”

“But—”

Junmyeon sighs deeply, “This is my last resort,” he shrugs. 

“Last resort?”

“Junmyeon has come to the conclusion,” Chanyeol states, “that you need an outlet for your anger problems.”

“I thought you left the fucking psych degree in the 60s, Jun,” Jongin bites out, but Junmyeon merely shrugs again, this time taking a seat on the couch. Chanyeol follows in kind. Jongin stands there near the dining table before Junmyeon throws him a vicious  _ look _ , and he rolls his eyes before sitting down on the loveseat, opposite the big couch where Junmyeon and Chanyeol sit. A part of him hopes the blood stains the couch cushions. 

“Listen here, Jongin,” Junmyeon says. He takes a deep breath. “You’ve murdered six humans in the last two weeks. The rapid pace of your bloodlust is getting to be too much. There are members of the Consulate who are looking to have you sunshined.”

_ Sunshined _ . Jongin thinks,  _ sunshined _ . 

“That seems like such an ironic word choice for the harsh reality of his death,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin cuts his eyes to Chanyeol’s gaze, who is still looking, still assessing. Jongin feels like something is crawling up his spine. 

“I didn’t come up with it,” Junmyeon says, before moving on, “Listen. Mr. Park is my— _ your _ —last hope,” he takes a deep breath in through his nose, “people are starting to talk. People are starting to question  _ me _ . Question my authority—whether or not I can handle my charges. You know how I deal with disrespect against my name.”

_ You kill them,  _ Jongin wants to say,  _ you’ve never been soft in your life.  _

Junmyeon studies Jongin’s gaze, knowing he’s caught up to the issue at hand. “This is as much about your health as it is about  _ my  _ reputation. Chanyeol will fucking help you, you will fucking listen to him, you will  _ learn  _ how to control your bloodlust from him, or so help me God—” Junmyeon cuts himself off, shaking in rage. He gets up off the couch and sits next to Jongin on the loveseat, grips his face between his hands, and forces Jongin to meet his gaze.

“I cannot lose you,” Junmyeon says, but Jongin doesn’t register the words in his mind, not really. He’s so focused on the way Junmyeon’s hands feel against his cheeks, focused on how the anger abates, the hunger disappears, in the way Junmyeon’s hands feel pressed against his skin. 

_ Oh,  _ Jongin thinks,  _ this is what that’s always felt like.  _ He closes his eyes once, soaks in the warmth of Junmyeon’s fingers against his cheek, and then looks away.

“Okay,” he says, in defeat and in deference. He doesn’t have to like Chanyeol. He doesn’t have to get along with him. But he’ll be damned if he disappoints Junmyeon again, he’ll be damned if Junmyeon’s reputation is ruined because he couldn’t stop being so  _ hungry _ . Jongin’s stomach twists in knots, and he sighs. “Why a wolf?” he asks, looking at Chanyeol. He merely watches Jongin back, eyes never leaving Jongin’s face.

“He owes me a favor,” Junmyeon says, and doesn’t expand on it any further.

Their gazes lock for what feels like a lifetime. Junmyeon’s hand feels more like a brand than an act of love. His eyes sharpen. Jongin knows there is only one possible answer. He closes his eyes.

“Fine,” Jongin says, the fight leaving him, “what do I have to do exactly?”

Junmyeon pats his head, “Good boy,” he says, and Jongin feels heat rush up to his cheeks. He sees Chanyeol from the corner of his eyes studying him intently, and then he’s flooded with the memory that werewolves are  _ masters  _ at picking up scents.  _ Fuck,  _ Jongin thinks,  _ absolutely fuck.  _

“From this day forward you will have regular sessions with Mr. Park until he thinks you’re more or less centered again.”

Jongin nods in understanding and then, “Wait, sessions?” he asks, puzzled. “Are you a therapist?”

Junmyeon snorts, and then says, “Oh… I must’ve forgotten to mention…” letting his voice trail off. Jongin looks at Junmyeon, and then Chanyeol. “A therapist? You’re a therapist?”

“No, no,” Chanyeol says, leaning forward off the couch, “I’m not that.”

“Well?” Jongin shouts, feeling his hackles rise, “what are you then?”

Chanyeol sits back, and crosses one leg over the other, arm outstretched over the back of the couch. He is as imposing sitting down as he is standing up. Jongin can’t get himself to look away from Chanyeol’s face. 

“I’m an Alpha,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin feels his blood curdle in his veins. A werewolf is one thing. They’re brash and loud and too much all at once, they smell like a wet dog and they can never keep their noses out of trouble. A werewolf is annoying—but Jongin can handle that. He can handle dealing with the neediness and the aggression of a regular old werewolf in a regular old pack.

_ But the Alpha? _

Jongin looks at Junmyeon, who meets his gaze full on. Junmyeon’s words come back to him.  _ You know how I deal with disrespect against my name.  _ Jongin shudders. Maybe he should be sunshined instead. It might fucking hurt less.

“I’m a fucking vampire,” Jongin grits out, breaking out of Junmyeon’s hold. He feels the hunger in his stomach grow again, feels the emptiness that encompasses his entire body. “I can’t carry your fucking kids.”

“You don’t need too, sweetheart,” Chanyeol says, eyes gleaming. 

“For all intents and purposes,” Junmyeon cuts in, “Chanyeol is your sire now. Treat him the way you treat me.”

“Fuck that,” Jongin mutters, and Junmyeon levels him with a hard glare. He’d rather be sunshined than be an Alpha werewolf’s plaything.

“You know the options,” Junmyeon reminds him, “you know what your choices are here.”

“If it helps,” Chanyeol says, “you can think of me as your Dom.”

Jongin snorts, “Seriously?”

“I said only if it helped,” Chanyeol shrugs, before getting up off the couch. He shakes imaginary dust off his shoulder. “Junmyeon has already given me your cell phone number,” Chanyeol says, looking directly at Jongin. He shudders under the weight of that gaze. “I’ll be in contact with you again, we’ll meet alone, go over a few things. Outline some expectations,” the smirk Chanyeol gives him is dripping in…  _ something _ . Jongin closes his eyes against the tidal wave inside his body. Brutally  _ hot  _ and a  _ fucking  _ asshole. The front door clicks shut as Chanyeol leaves without another word. 

Jongin turns around to question Junmyeon, but just like that, his sire is gone. He supposes Junmyeon is checking on Baekhyun, or slipping into their shared bed. He needs to wash his face, shower maybe—change his clothes, too. Jongin sighs. He doesn’t allow himself to dwell on it any longer though, before he raids the fridge for blood. 

He’s never felt so  _ hungry _ .

***

Jongin looks up from the blinking text message on his phone from Chanyeol. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, or well, as ordinary as an alpha werewolf texting him could be. Jongin half expected Chanyeol to send him a list of duties, to come by the apartment and blindfold him—to kidnap him and take him back to his werewolf lair or whatever, but instead all he gets is a fucking—

**Unknown Number: ** Hi Jongin, are you free this afternoon? I would love to swing by and speak to you. 

Jongin stares at the message, equal parts trepidation and annoyance. It’s been a couple days since he first met Chanyeol and was handed down this ultimatum from Junmyeon. Jongins tried to be on his best behavior since then, has come back home long before the self imposed curfew is passed, and has remained on a steady but disgusting diet of blood bags only. The stale blood makes him gag, but at least Junmyeon isn’t staying up into the early morning hours with disappointment so clearly etched into his face. 

Jongin wants to leave Chanyeol on read for a while, maybe, or ignore him altogether. But he knows, deep down, there’s no way out of this. He’s going to have to be tied to an Alpha, whether he wants to or not. The thought makes him shudder.

**Me:** yea im free 

Jongin replies, and gets a response almost instantaneously. Chanyeol simply says  _ “I’ll be over by 2pm.” _ Jongin double taps the message with a thumbs up for acknowledgement, and doesn’t bother replying with anything else. 

From there on, Jongin spends the rest of his day in a slightly nervous daze, alternating between trying to make a good impression and weighing the merits of telling Chanyeol to go fuck himself. He doesn’t think Junmyeon would like the second option, however, he also thinks Junmyeon is a big headed loser. Jongin pouts to himself as he speed drinks through a blood bag,  _ a total fucking loser _ . 

The stale blood does nothing to ease the hunger that grows inside him in waves, nor does it do anything to calm the rapid beating of his dead heart. Jongin closes his eyes and thinks about Sehun, wonders on the merits of becoming a ghost, of leaving this life—and Junmyeon—behind. When it was he and Sehun against Baekhyun and Junmyeon in this house, it didn’t ever feel so lonely. But now the gap of space that Sehun’s presence has left behind is rearing its ugly head more and more the longer Jongin thinks about all the time he’s had to spend alone. 

And of course, Jongin’s been thinking these thoughts for nearly a hundred years now, the rush of adrenaline that the idea of leaving Junmyeon gives him—and while Jongin knows Sehun would take him in with open arms… he also knows he might end up staying hungry forever.

Sooner rather than later, two in the afternoon creeps up on Jongin like a deadweight, and he is barely more than presentable before there are three loud rapts at the door. Two in the afternoon means that Baekhyun and Junmyeon are both still sleeping, or doing something  _ else  _ that Jongin doesn’t want to think about. He shakes his mind to clear the worry. He goes to the door calmly and unlatches the hook before opening it up and revealing Chanyeol in all his glory once again. Jongin silently fumes.

“I realized after I suggested 2pm that you might actually be sleeping,” Chanyeol says, before pushing his way past Jongin and into the house. He sounds normal this time around, as Jongin fights the urge to roll his eyes, or bare his teeth.

“It’s fine,” Jongin says, and covers up a yawn, “I don’t sleep much anyway these days.” 

“Vampire thing or Jongin thing?” Chanyeol asks, and his tone is not unkind.

“Both?” Jongin says, “Vampires don’t need that much sleep… still need to sleep though.”

“And you don’t?”

Jongin shrugs, and closes the door. He sits on the couch, stretched out, and arms crossed over his chest. He has an inkling he should run for the hills, or rip Chanyeol’s throat out. Either option is starting to feel like a better one than the reality that surrounds him.

“So…” Jongin starts, and looks away from Chanyeol. He is tall and sharp jawed, and his jet black hair feels like less of a hair color and more of a statement of power. It comes down around his ears and near the nape of his neck. Jongin briefly entertains the idea that Chanyeol would look very handsome with his hair slicked back and off his forehead. He wipes the thought from his mind. Chanyeol is an Alpha werewolf afterall. 

“Just a few ground rules,” Chanyeol says, before taking a seat next to Jongin. Their thighs do not touch, but Jongin can feel the heat radiating off of Chanyeol’s skin all the same. Werewolves run hot, he remembers to himself,  _ some hotter than others, _ his terrible mind replies, before Jongin gets himself to focus on the task at hand.

He scoffs, all harsh, before rolling his eyes in front of Chanyeol’s face. “What is there to cover? I know what it means to belong to an Alpha werewolf. I know what you’re going to  _ force  _ me to do.” Jongin turns away as they ruminate in silence. Because this is the real crux of the matter of course, no one who has been gifted to an Alpha werewolf has lasted long enough to survive them. It’s a death sentence, for any vampire, to be given into the hands of a werewolf, of an Alpha—to be used as an expendable punching bag, a trophy, or a fucking whore.

Jongin gulps, feeling nauseous where he sits on the couch. He knows he has a beautiful face. He knows he has a cutting physique. He knows he has a pretty mouth.

He  _ knows  _ which of those options he falls under. 

“Look at me,” Chanyeol says, but Jongin does not. 

“Look at me,” Chanyeol repeats, and this time his voice is harsh.  _ Good, _ Jongin thinks,  _ good. _ He doesn’t have to like Chanyeol, but there’s no rule against annoying the shit out of him.

“Look. At. Me.” Chanyeol says, and he grips Jongin’s jaw before turning him by the face to look at him. 

“First rule,” Chanyeol starts, eyes hard and glowing red, “when I tell you to do something—you do it. No questions asked.”

Jongin gulps. He does not respond.

“Understand?” Chanyeol says, and his grip on Jongin’s face does not release, “Acknowledge me.”

Jongin wants to be petty but a sense of calm washes over him. He bites his cheek, remembers Junmyeon. “I—I understand,” Jongin spits out. Chanyeol lets his jaw go. 

“I don’t know what idea you have in your head of werewolves—Alphas specifically. It might be true, it might not be—I don’t care,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin watches the line of his shoulders as he shrugs. “I know what I am about though,” he continues, “and I promise you right now from the get go that I have no plans to force myself on you—in  _ any _ capacity.”

“But you just said—” Jongin tries to interrupt but Chanyeol cuts him off with a glare.

“I think me telling you to do things—most of which is going to revolve around taking better care of yourself—is vastly different from me holding you down and forcing myself on you, don’t you think?” 

Jongin can only nod.

“Anyway,” Chanyeol says, continuing on, “you are no longer allowed to feed on humans.”

“What?!”

“You heard me,” he shrugs, “you’ll continue drinking from blood bags while we work on getting your appetite in order.”

Jongin shakes his head. He has been drinking blood bags for the last couple days, but nothing compares to the rush of warm, fresh blood between his teeth, all over his tongue. Even Junmyeon let him drink from humans, back when the bloodlust was easier to control, back before everything fell apart.

“Blood bags,” Chanyeol repeats, and his tone brokers no room for argument. Jongin gags internally.

“Fine,” he replies, though he wonders how long his body will accept the blood bags before it starts to reject it again. Jongin shudders, remembers the nights of throwing up rancid blood, the nights where he didn’t tell Junmyeon because he was with Baekhyun, back when this bloodlust had first started. Jongin shakes his head, snaps himself out of his memories. He looks up at Chanyeol who’s watching him intently, eyes still searching. Jongin feels naked under the weight of Chanyeol’s gaze, like Chanyeol can read all of his thoughts that pass through his mind.

“I don’t have anything else I need to instruct you on,” he makes an all encompassing hand gesture, “it’s settled then?” Chanyeol asks, and Jongin gets whiplash from trying to process what had just happened. 

“That’s it?” Jongin blurts out, looking at Chanyeol in disbelief. “You’re not gonna chain me? Take me? Use me? Show me off to the rest of your pack?”

“You’ll meet my pack eventually,” he says, eyes sharp. Chanyeol shrugs, “but that isn’t what you really care about though is it?” Jongin feels a shiver up his spine. He feels like a scared human again, he feels like Chanyeol is going to eat him. The thought makes him miserable. Jongin gulps.

“To answer your other question… no,” Chanyeol says, with a smile on his face, he rests a warm hand on Jongin’s inner thigh. It burns. “Never against your will,” he smirks.

Jongin feels his blood set on fire, “What’s that supposed to mean?” he grits out, annoyance flaring at the smug smirk that seems to eternally adore Chanyeol’s face.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Chanyeol says, relaxing back on the couch, arm slung over the cushions. The spot on Jongin’s thigh where his hand once rested is still warm, and Jongin feels the way the blood in his veins pulse. Chanyeol shrugs, but the move is calculated. 

“Spell it out for me then,” Jongin says through gritted teeth. He’s tired, he’s upset, and quite frankly, terrified. Afraid of the future, afraid of what is to come. Chanyeol is still an Alpha werewolf. Chanyeol is still a stranger. And with Junmyeon giving this man before him his unequivocal support—well, Jongin doesn’t know what to think anymore. There’s a spark in Chanyeol’s eye at his tone, like Jongin’s giving him the exact reaction he’s always wanted, like he’s giving him everything Chanyeol was looking out for. Jongin wants to rip Chanyeol’s throat out, wants to wipe the smirk off his face.

“I don’t have to force myself on you,” Chanyeol starts, and the intensity of his gaze keeps Jongin locked in place, “because one day, and one day soon, you will come to me, and you will ask me to hold you.”

Jongin laughs, full bodied, “You’re insane,” he spits out, and gets up off the couch. He stands in front of Chanyeol, who is still calmly sitting back, calmly resting against the back of the couch. Looking every bit as collected and sure of himself that Jongin doesn’t feel. “I will never want to  _ fuck  _ you.”

“You will,” Chanyeol says, and the sincerity in his tone throws Jongin for a loop, like Chanyeol actually fucking believes in the words that he’s saying. He reaches his hand out and grabs Jongin’s hip, pressing the flesh there. “One day, you are going to beg me to touch you all over your body, to cover you in my scent.” He digs his fingers in deeper against supple skin, “you will be before me, on your knees, tears in your eyes, asking for me to own you—to claim you.” Chanyeol gets up off the couch and stands above Jongin, eyes never leaving his face. “And when that day comes… I will give you  _ everything  _ you need.” 

“You’re actually completely insane,” Jongin bites out, crossing his arms and pulling out of Chanyeol’s grip, “you know nothing about me, you will never know anything about me,” he spits out, “I’m only doing this for Junmyeon.”

“Boom,” Chanyeol says, and presses forward. He towers over Jongin standing this close, and Jongin can feel the heat radiating off of Chanyeol’s chest. He’s so broad, he’s so tall, he’s so  _ huge _ . Jongin gulps, while trying to keep it together. “That right there,” Chanyeol continues, “has confirmed to me everything I already knew about you.”

“And what’s that?” Jongin says, not willing to back down.

“Do you want me to hurt your feelings?” Chanyeol asks, before leaning down into Jongin’s space, his lips resting right against Jongin’s left ear. His warm breath tickles the side of Jongin’s face, while his body screams for him to run away.

“Have you ever told Junmyeon that you’re in love with him?” Chanyeol whispers softly into Jongin’s ear, and the pit of Jongin’s stomach immediately drops to the floor. He pushes Chanyeol away, both palms pressed against Chanyeol’s chest. Chanyeol doesn’t so much as move from the force of Jongin’s shove as he does just taking a step back out of Jongin’s reach. 

“Fuck you,” Jongin spits out, vicious, “fuck you, Mr. Park!” he seethes, trying to keep his tone down because he knows Junmyeon and Baekhyun are still sleeping, because he knows that they’re— 

Jongin squats to the ground and covers his head with his hands. If he was alive his heart would be beating fast, his palms would be covered in sweat, his face would be red in misery. But none of that happens. Instead, all he feels is the empty pit that has taken root in his stomach expand, the embarrassment that feels cataclysmic bearing down on him like a tsunami. Jongin feels his cheeks wet, and has a second to register that he’s crying, before two warm hands grip his cheeks, and lift his face up. “I told you,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin stares into brown eyes that look soft, “to call me Chanyeol.” He cups Jongin’s face in two hands, as silent tears stream down Jongin’s cheeks. Jongin is reminded of the other day, when Junmyeon gripped his face between two hands, but it doesn’t feel the same. Chanyeol’s palms are warm against his skin. Chanyeol’s fingers are rough on his cheeks, but the brown in his eyes feels like…  _ more _ .

Chanyeol wipes the tears from Jongin’s face with his thumb, and Jongin is left to figure out the enigma that is the werewolf in front of him, who could be so imposing one second, so grating, so calculating, and then sweet enough to hold Jongin’s face while he’s crying. 

“What are you?” Jongin bites out, although there isn’t much heat behind it. He feels bone tired all of a sudden, and in need of a peaceful sleep. Jongin doesn’t let himself dwell on the fact that he hasn’t actually felt this sleepy in years—that he hasn’t felt this deep seated tiredness in so long.

And all Chanyeol did was make him cry. 

Jongin shakes his head to clear his mind.

“I told you,” Chanyeol says, patting Jongin’s cheek, “I’m an Alpha,” he smirks again, and Jongin doesn’t know what that means. He understands what Chanyeol’s rank is in his pack… but he has no idea what it means outside of that. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Jongin grits out, and Chanyeol helps him to his feet.

“It will,” Chanyeol says, mischievously, “you’ll know exactly what I mean.” He squeezes Jongin’s shoulder in parting, before making his way to the door. Jongin watches him intently.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Chanyeol says, “you will text me every day with what time you go to bed and what time you wake up.” 

Jongin nods.

“Once I leave, I expect you to go to your room and sleep. I’ll be able to tell if you don’t sleep, Jongin. So make sure you do.”

Jongin shakes his head, “You’re a mystery,” he mutters to himself.

“Also,” Chanyeol adds, his hand on the door knob, “when you meet my pack you will address me as Alpha only.” Chanyeol’s gaze is determined and strong.

A shiver runs up Jongin’s spine. Chanyeol smiles, “Good night sweet pea,” he says, before closing the door.

***

True to his word Jongin does fall into the most fitful sleep he’s had in a long time. He doesn’t let himself dwell on the reasoning behind it though, as he wakes up around midnight, feeling more alive than he has in a while. He grabs his phone and texts Chanyeol “im up” before shutting it off. Jongin feels his stomach grumbling, and his teeth sore with hunger. He imagines the way it would feel to sink his canines into the supple flesh of a human neck. He desperately wants to eat more than a blood bag. He heaves himself out of bed and sighs, stretching his arms above his head. If he can get through this mess of a situation… maybe he might be allowed to drink blood again. Jongin makes his way outside his room and into the dining area, where he sees Baekhyun sitting down at the table with a comic book in his hand and a glass of blood in the other. Baekhyun’s always taken to pouring the blood out of the bag and into a cup, tiny fingers perched on the rim of the glass as he takes a small sip. He’s always taken to being soft around the edges, despite his fiery personality, has taken to being delicate in ways where Jongin is not. 

He lets that thought simmer in his mind and dwell in his heart, as he rips open a blood bag and chugs it right out of the plastic.

“Good morning sunshine,” Baekhyun drawls, giggling. Jongin turns to face him with blood dripping down the corner of his mouth, wiping the excess on the back of his hand. Baekhyun takes a small sip from his cup once again.

“Morning,” he replies, feeling restful.

Baekhyun closes the comic book and looks up at Jongin, eyes curious. He motions for Jongin to sit down and he does, directly across him. Jongin has half a mind to think about the purpose of having a dining room in the first place before Baekhyun clears his throat.

“So Junmyeon has told me about the situation,” he starts, and Jongin looks away. “Don’t worry, he’s out at a business meeting,” Baekhyun shrugs.

“So he’s just getting drunk on spiked blood with Minseok, you mean?”

Baekhyun snorts, “Yeah exactly,” his laugh is tiny.

They sit in silence for a while, unsure of what to say. Jongin hasn’t felt this weird around Baekhyun in so long, and they’ve all been living together more or less for the last thirty years or so. That’s nothing, in the grand scheme of things,  _ that’s nothing compared to how long it was just me and Junmyeon,  _ Jongin’s mind supplies unhelpfully, although he knows that too, does not matter. 

“Look,” Baekhyun starts, “I don’t exactly agree with Junmyeon’s methods on this entire situation. With you know…” Baekhyun makes a vague hand gesture.

“Involving a werewolf?” Jongin supplies, draining the blood bag in his hands. He crumples the plastic.

“Yeah, that,” Baekhyun shrugs, “but I also understand why he’s doing it.” He meets Jongin’s eyes. “I don’t want to lose you either, you know.”

Jongin doesn’t know what to say, so instead, he nods noncommittally. He wishes he had another blood bag to drink from. 

“Werewolves are really fucking weird,” Baekhyun continues, “I’ve only ever come across one in my life.”

“Did Junmyeon tell you Mr. Park is an Alpha?”

Baekhyun remains silent. “He definitely left that out,” he says, voice neutral.

Jongin rolls his eyes. “Of course he did.”

They sit together in silence again. Jongin plays with the crumpled plastic of the blood bag and Baekhyun goes back to his comic book. Things never used to be like this between them before. Jongin remembers a time when he actively enjoyed Baekhyun’s company. Now he sits across from the third member of their little family and feels a distance wider than the Pacific Ocean between them. He doesn’t know where exactly things took a bad turn. But all in all, Jongin can’t say he really, truly cares.

“I’ll be in my room,” Jongin mutters, getting up and throwing his plastic blood bag away. 

Baekhyun makes a grunt of acknowledgement without looking up from his book. Jongin gets back into his room and flops on his bed, mind racing at breakneck speeds. He opens up his laptop and surfs the internet quietly, finds himself stuck on watching cute videos of cats and dogs. It makes him laugh and smile to himself, even if the emptiness in his gut seems to echo loudly in his head. The blood bag barely scratched the surface of his hunger. Jongin tries to ignore it—both for his sake and Junmyeon’s. Enough time has passed with Jongin wasting away on the internet, that he shuts his laptop off and turns his phone on. He thinks about the life he’s led for nearly four hundred years. Thinks about the degrees he holds, the people he’s met, the wars he lived and fought and “died” in. Jongin thinks about the family he had centuries ago, the one he could never return too, the faces that have been lost to the fickle memory of four centuries of new information, new people, and new times. He thinks about the family he has now, and how Junmyeon and Baekhyun and Sehun are  _ all  _ he knows.

Jongin thinks about his hunger and how it has not faded. Thinks about the last thirty years and feels like he’s looking at a dark, black canvas. He thinks now, he understands what Wilde meant all those years back, back when he talked about what it meant, to be locked up and stuck in your head and write for days, to have only one thing that could keep you going. Jongin remembers much of Oscar Wilde’s influence during his and Junmyeon’s time in Paris, one of the few times Jongin found himself longing to return to one of the cities he called home.  _ To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all.  _ Jongin feels these words bounce around in his head, swirling around in the mess of emotions inside his brain. He wonders if he’s lived at all, the last one hundred years. Wonders when he stopped wanting to push forward, and kept retreating back into the abysmal landscape of his head.

The message tone from his phone pulls him out of his misery laden reverie. Jongin tries not to let himself be glad that it’s Chanyeol. He heaves a sigh. 

_ What are you doing? _ the phone screen reads.

Jongin doesn’t know why his chest alights at that—that the small courtesy of someone asking him what he’s doing will make blood pound in his body as if he was still alive.

_ Is this a come on? _ Jongin replies,  _ Are you about to ask me what I would do if you were here? _

_ You’d like that very much,  _ Chanyeol writes back. Jongin didn’t think his reply would be so fast.  _ But I am merely doing my job. Speak to me.  _

_ I have nothing to say _ , Jongin types out, even though he knows it is a blatant lie. He has a thousand tiny thoughts in his head, ruminating and criss crossing and not making any sense. He doesn’t trust Chanyeol in any capacity except as a means to an end. He thinks about his dear old friend Oscar again, and wonders once more if he has ever truly  _ lived _ .

_ I will find out eventually,  _ Chanyeol writes,  _ so take all the time you need. _

Jongin wonders why he is even entertaining Chanyeol’s replies—aside from the obvious reasons. He could simply have given Chanyeol a bleak answer and turned his phone away. But then Jongin remembers being on the floor, tears streaming down his face. Thinks about Chanyeol’s thumbs wiping his cheeks, thinks about Chanyeol knowing him and seeing him—deducing him, all within the span of two meetings in person.

He finds Chanyeol to be an enigma, a mystery, and in the last hundred years it has been quite a long time since Jongin felt inclined to genuinely  _ enjoy  _ something. Even if Chanyeol seems like nothing more than a sanctimonious asshole. Even if being in this relationship puts Jongin in danger.

Before he can stop himself, Jongin replies,  _ You might wait forever to find out what i mean.  _

_ I am an Alpha,  _ pings in the new message, and Jongin still doesn’t understand what that means.  _ This is my job.  _

Jongin’s gut clenches. This is  _ his  _ job. Taking care of Jongin—because of Junmyeon. That’s why Chanyeol is here after all. Although, in some far begotten part of Jongin’s mind, he thinks there’s more meaning in Chanyeol’s sentence than he can ascertain. That maybe Chanyeol is hiding secrets, too. Jongin sighs, in relief and in despair.

_ Go to sleep little bird,  _ Jongin’s phone chimes again at Chanyeol’s message. The nickname makes his stomach clench.  _ You need all the rest you can get.  _

_ Okay,  _ Jongin replies, and does in fact feel himself getting a bit sleepy. He doesn’t want to dwell on the fact that Chanyeol has been able to talk him into a fitful rest twice within the same twenty-four hours. Jongin puts his phone on the night stand and closes his eyes. 

He falls asleep to the images of a deep voice, and the thoughts of what it truly means to live forever. 

***

Jongin settles into a routine with Chanyeol more or less from there. Chanyeol will text him everyday, asking him about his day, about what he’s doing, and instead of giving flat responses Jongin finds himself genuinely enjoying the things he has to say. It’s only been about a week of this routine, but Jongin feels a lot more well rested than usual. He also catches himself, in some moments, looking forward to hearing his phone  _ ping  _ with Chanyeol’s messages. He’d gotten around to setting a different ringtone for Chanyeol on his phone, which has made it a lot easier to keep up with his replies.  _ No,  _ Jongin thinks,  _ it’s not for any other reason _ , as he pushes away thoughts of loneliness that seems to creep into his mind like vines. Jongin finds himself waking up every night and feeling better than before—even if the dark looming  _ emptiness  _ in his gut doesn’t seem to abate. His stomach grumbles as he finishes another blood bag for breakfast, and he forces himself to ignore the hunger for another day. He feels himself dry heave into the sink while he brushes his teeth, the after effects of the blood bags making him feel sick. Jongin entertains himself by playing video games, reading books, and watching cat videos on the internet. All in all, his days seem to blur into a simple routine, with the one highlight being that Chanyeol’s presence is a mere text message away.

Jongin forces himself not to dwell on that fact as it still feels too soon. But the introduction of the distraction that Chanyeol has brought into his life has made for something to soothe the raging hunger. Jongin hasn’t properly seen Junmyeon since the night he was reprimanded, and his heart aches with longing when he thinks about him too much. Jongin tries not to let the bitterness infect his mind… but it’s a hard pill to swallow when on the times he  _ does  _ see Junmyeon, he seems wrapped up in Council duties or  _ Baekhyun  _ duties. Sometimes, Jongin thinks he’ll catch Baekhyun giving him a look, like he wants to understand Jongin on a fundamental level—or like he’s already figured Jongin out. He still can’t decide what’s worse: Baekhyun knowing or Baekhyun pitying him. Jongin hopes he will never find out.

Jongin looks up from the fridge where he’s intently studying the bags of O-negative blood when he hears the front door slam open. He whips his head around to see Junmyeon rushing in with his arms full of papers. Part of Junmyeon’s present day disguise, at least in this “lifetime” is that he’s a teacher at an online university in Canada. His glasses are askew on his face and Jongin feels his stomach race at the image Junmyeon makes.

“How was school?” he asks, nonchalantly. Jongin closes the fridge door. It’s been a really long time since he’s seen Junmyeon. Jongin knows, on some level, he’s been avoiding him. He also knows on the same level that it’s a two way street. Junmyeon turns towards the sound of his voice, almost like he’s just noticed that Jongin is there.

“Good, good,” Junmyeon says, albeit his voice is distracted. His eyes keep flitting back and forth between Jongin and the hallway, where the bedrooms are. Jongin sighs.

“Baekhyun’s not here,” he says, “if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Shit, shit, shit,” Junmyeon mutters, and he throws all of his belongings onto the table. “Do you know where we went?”

“No,” Jongin answers honestly. It’s around 4 in the morning and he only woke up about an hour ago. Jongin figures Junmyeon finished classes a couple hours ago, although he’s never been totally good at differentiating the time zones all that quickly. He was alone in the house when he woke up, anyway.

Junmyeon runs a hand through his hair. “Damn.”

“Is everything okay?” Jongin asks tentatively. He moves out of the kitchen and near Junmyeon at the table.

“We,” Junmyeon pauses, looking at Jongin before turning away, “we’ve had a disagreement.”

“Ah,” Jongin says, and that’s all he needs to know. It’s been years since Junmyeon and Baekhyun have fought, and fought hard enough for Baekhyun to disappear. There’s only one other time Jongin can recall where this happened, and Baekhyun disappeared for  _ days _ . He’d never seen Junmyeon so low before. Jongin remembers resenting Baekhyun so much back then, for how sad Junmyeon had been. Remembers thinking Junmyeon was so fucking stupid to put all his stock, all his love into one other person. Jongin looks at himself now, at the situation he’s stuck in. The irony of it all is not lost on him.

“He’ll come back right?” Junmyeon’s voice is fragile, like anything Jongin says might cause him to break. One part of Jongin wants to crack a joke, wants to say maybe Baekhyun’s out there getting his bloodlust on, maybe Baekhyun’s out there draining one human after another, maybe it’s Baekhyun who’ll be staying up well past sunrise, that maybe it’ll be Baekhyun that Junmyeon needs to worry about being sunshined instead. The anger crawls up his throat in waves, as he watches the look of tenderness that crosses over Junmyeon’s face. Jongin wonders where he went wrong, in all these years of knowing Junmyeon, of being tied to him, wonders what century was the turning point where they went their separate ways. He clenches his fists at his sides instead, and bites his bottom lip to keep from hurting Junmyeon’s feelings. The hunger in the pit of his stomach is cold.

“He sure will,” Jongin says through gritted teeth. Because the other part of him is what always wins. The part of him that’s fully aware that not only would saying any of those things be completely disrespectful to his sire, it would also just make him the world’s shittiest friend. For all the pain that Jongin feels inside his chest, he can’t imagine what turmoil Junmyeon is experiencing. So he locks away the bitterness for another day, even though it feels like lightning rods beneath his skin. He looks at Junmyeon, watches the way his lips are set into a small pout, glasses pushed up off his face and into his hair. He doesn’t look like the imposing vampire he is when he’s down like this, when he lets his worries shine through, lets the softness come out. Jongin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and his lips form a thin line. He glances at the clock on the wall, reads  _ 4:32am. _ Chanyeol is sleeping. He doesn’t let himself dwell on the thought, ignores the itch under his skin that wants him to send a text message beyond the requisite  _ im going to bed now _ . 

Junmyeon clears his throat and Jongin turns towards the sound. He looks at Jongin and he meets his gaze. Perhaps Junmyeon is expecting Jongin to say more than three words. Jongin really can’t find it in himself to do more than he’s already done. The cavern between them grows wider.

“I’m going for a walk,” Jongin says, and moves out of the dining area. He gets to the doorway before Junmyeon confronts him, albeit weakly.

“Don’t kill anyone,” Junmyeon says sternly, and Jongin isn’t even upset at the fact that Junmyeon doesn’t ask him if he’s okay. He pushes past Junmyeon, who lets him, probably too exhausted from fighting with Baekhyun to actually give a shit about Jongin. 

He steps out into the cold morning and lets the wind whip against his face. Jongin slips on his tennis shoes like they’re slippers, heels crushing the back of the shoes, as he mindlessly walks around their neighborhood, guided only by the moonlight.

He feels cold all over as feelings of anger and sadness he can’t communicate seem to bounce all around in his veins.

Jongin is tired. He’s so, so tired. He keeps his mind trained on the cat videos he watched earlier this week, the funny dog memes Sehun sends him when he remembers to check his phone. Jongin counts his own breaths in the dark even though he doesn’t need to, thinks about the landmarks across California and the way the ocean breeze felt on his skin near Fisherman’s Wharf sixteen years ago. Jongin breathes in and breathes out. He does everything he can to fill his mind with rest, to allow his body to relax enough to go back to sleep, to ignore the hunger. But he’s never wanted to sink his teeth in supple flesh more than right now, never wanted to dig his hands against someones’ torso and  _ squeeze _ . To leave marks like he means it. To feel the way his teeth would scrape against a neck as he sucked the blood of someone’s life into his own body. Jongin walks up and down the streets of his neighborhood and it all feels futile. The blood bags do  _ nothing _ . 

“Fuck,” he hears someone say into the darkness, as dawn is starting to show it’s true colors. Jongin whips his head around, lost in thought, and his gaze meets that of someone who’s barely stumbling down the sidewalk, so obviously drunk.

Jongin assesses the situation, and hears the way the blood pounds in this person’s veins. He looks young too, no more than twenty-five, and with how inebriated he is, he’d just be an easy meal. Jongin approaches the guy slowly, who all but ends up swaying into his arms. 

“Hey,” he says, and Jongin barely catches him.

“I think you’re drunk, kid,” Jongin says, and he can really smell the alcohol on this person’s body now. 

“Mmhmm,” the dude says back, and Jongin watches the way his neck veins pulse. It would be so easy. It would be  _ so _ easy. But then Jongin looks the kid in his eyes, and sighs. He sees nothing but misery there, too.

“Where do you live?” Jongin asks, and is surprised the guy is able to give him the address. Jongin thinks he’d have made it home eventually, or been flattened on the sidewalk eating the concrete. He carries the boy swiftly and walks him home, the entire time ignoring the way his stomach is screaming at him to just take a bite, just take  _ one _ bite, please.

Jongin dumps the kid on the front door step of his house, before ringing the doorbell. He casts a glance at the sky and see that sunrise is nearly approaching. Jongin switches gears into vampire speed and runs his way back to the house, mind moving just as fast as his feet as he races against the sun. 

Jongin gets inside the home with just a couple minutes to spare, and rests his back against the door as he catches his breath. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just drink that kid out of his blood. He doesn’t know why he brought him home when he didn’t have too. Jongin’s brain just feels like an utter crapshoot, thoughts bouncing too fast for him to clearly comprehend. 

“I’m going to bed,” Jongin says to no one in particular, before pushing himself off the door and heading to his room. He lays on his bed for what feels like a lifetime, sifting through his thoughts and his actions. At any other time, he would have drank that kid for blood. At any other time, he’d have just been another victim on Jongin’s list. 

But all Jongin can think of now is how proud Chanyeol would be that he didn’t kill someone. How glad Chanyeol would be to see that Jongin is making some modicum of improvement. The thought scares him so deeply, because Chanyeol hasn’t even been in his life for that long. And yet the idea of making the Alpha proud is the warmest though Jongin has had the entire day. 

He falls asleep long past sunrise, images of a warm body enveloping him resting behind his eyelids.

***

When his phone chimes hours later, it is with a text from Chanyeol that simply says:  _ im picking you up at sundown. Be ready.  _ Jongin bites back the excitement that fills his body at the prospect of finally getting to leave the house. He hasn’t properly gone out past the previous morning’s escapades since Chanyeol came into the picture, and since the threat of being sunshined came into full view. Jongin gets up out of bed around 2pm, stomach grumbling. He passes by Junmyeon and Baekhyun’s door and hears twin sets of soft snoring, glad then, at least, that Baekhyun came home. He doesn’t want to think about what would have happened if he woke up to Junmyeon on the couch, waiting for Baekhyun’s return. The thought makes his skin itch.

Jongin goes through the motions of cleaning himself. He takes a quick shower and brushes his teeth, and puts lotion all over his body. He walks out of the bathroom knowing full well he smells like a strawberry but he doesn’t really care. By the time he gets to the kitchen, he’s almost forgotten that the only food he’s allowed to eat is blood bags. He thinks about that kid from last night again, and wonders if a sip would have been too much to ask for. He heaves a sigh when he opens the fridge door, and pulls out three. Jongin doesn’t know how long he’s going to be there at Chanyeol’s place. Hell, he doesn’t even know if Chanyeol’s  _ pack  _ is going to be there. He’s nervous and anxious, emotions feeling just a bit too all over the place.

Jongin downs the blood bags in one swift move, before dumping his trash. He hopes drinking more than enough will help to appease his stomach for whatever Chanyeol’s got planned tonight. This will be the first time they’ve seen each other since the second meeting, when Chanyeol brought him to tears. Jongin still doesn’t know how that makes him feel, still doesn’t know how Chanyeol was able to bring him down to his most base, most sacred parts, with just a word. Jongin thinks about what Chanyeol said, about how he describes himself as an  _ Alpha _ . The more Jongin thinks about it, the less sense it makes. There’s something in it though, that makes Jongin wonder if that’s the angle Chanyeol’s working off, if he’s purposefully being vague because he has plans to… 

Jongin gulps. Just because Chanyeol’s been a good distraction the last few weeks and just because Chanyeol’s been able to get him to sleep means  _ nothing _ . Jongin can only trust a werewolf so far as he can throw one, and for all Chanyeol’s grandeur saying he’d never  _ use  _ Jongin against his will… 

Well, there are just some things Jongin can’t fully believe about people until he sees the products in motion. Essentially, Jongin knows he’s walking into the lion’s den. But he figures it doesn’t matter anyway, whether he bitches or whines, because it really is either Chanyeol or the sun. And Junmyeon had made sure he’d never forget that. Jongin continues to let his mind wander as he sits on the couch. He debates playing a round of pubg before remembering that he’s  _ bad  _ at the game. Hundreds of years of living and he’s still never mastered video games. Besides, Sehun is the only person he’d play with, and he’s probably sleeping now, where he’s at halfway across the world. Jongin contents himself with watching dog videos on instagram on loop for the next couple hours. He wishes they could have a dog, but Junmyeon’s always been so uptight about animals in the home. And then, of course, there’s the fact that every dog is  _ afraid  _ of them so. Go figure. Jongin doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to convince either Junmyeon or Baekhyun to get a cat… but maybe… maybe if he gets desperate enough.

A light rapping at the door brings Jongin to full awakeness. He opens his eyes at the sound and realizes he must have dozed off somewhere between watching corgis chase after toys or dobermans chasing their own tails. He gets up and sees Baekhyun and Junmyeon having breakfast at the table. Baekhyun’s thin hand is wrapped around a glass of blood. When Jongin gets up, he sees the bite marks on his neck. He looks towards Junmyeon, but it feels like he’s staring from far away. There’s blood on the corner of his mouth and Jongin watches as Baekhyun reaches a hand and swipes his bottom lip.

The person at the door knocks lightly again.

That seems to take Baekhyun and Junmyeon out of their personal bubble. Jongin feels bile rise in his throat. “I’ll get it,” he snaps. “It’s for me.”

Junmyeon turns his head towards Jongin but Jongin has already moved away. He opens the door quickly and stares up into the eyes of Chanyeol. He’s got a cool, assessing look in his gaze, and Jongin is all too reminded that he must look terrible, considering he had just woken up from a nap. Chanyeol’s dressed in blue jeans and a nice black button down shirt. His hair is still black, but this time styled up. Jongin thinks he looks daunting, even around the eyes.

“Something up?” Chanyeol asks.

“Let’s just go,” Jongin pushes, but Chanyeol’s body in the doorway blocks his movements. 

“I’ll need to speak with Junmyeon first,” Chanyeol says, “relax.” He rests his hand on Jongin’s shoulder before stepping away.

“But—”

“Relax,” Chanyeol repeats, and Jongin fidgets under his hand, but moves away all the same. Chanyeol steps in past him and Jongin closes the door. He takes a moment to recollect himself, resting his forehead against the cool wood, before pushing himself off and walking back to the dining area. 

When Jongin approaches, he sees Junmyeon and Chanyeol caught in mid conversation. Jongin lets his eyes rove over Chanyeol’s body, taking him in from a distance. He glances over at Junmyeon, who even though is a good head shorter than Chanyeol, seems to keep himself on level ground. They speak in hushed tones and Jongin finds himself tuning it out, knowing it’s more logistics than anything. He already knows they’re talking about him, he figures Chanyeol will tell him on the way to his home anyway. 

Someone clears their throat and that breaks Jongin out of his focus. His eyes catch on Baekhyun who’s giving him an odd look, but Jongin doesn’t have the time to ponder what it means before Chanyeol is calling his name. 

“Yes, Mr. Park?” Jongin’s eyes move from Baekhyun’s face to Chanyeol’s. 

Chanyeol sighs, “Didn’t I say to call me Chanyeol?”

“You said to call you Alpha,” Jongin hisses.

Chanyeol smirks, “You remembered,” he walks closer to Jongin, “but that’s only when the pack is around.”

“Uh huh.” Jongin grunts.

“Are you ready to leave?” Chanyeol asks.

“Been.”

Chanyeol studies him with his ever calculating gaze, and Jongin once again feels like Chanyeol is seeing things about him that he can’t see for himself. Chanyeol stares at him for another minute, before slowly nodding his head.

“Let’s get going,” Chanyeol says, smiling, all teeth.

Jongin walks to the front door without sparing Junmyeon or Baekhyun a second glance. He is outside the house before Chanyeol even has his shoes back on, letting the cold night wind cut through his skin. Jongin thinks if he were still human, he’d have goosebumps running up and down his arms. For some reason, the thought makes him very sad.

He follows Chanyeol into his car silently, closes the door softly. He remains quiet throughout the car ride to Chanyeol’s house, eyes focussed outside the window, taking in the buildings and neon lights as they drive by in the dark. Chanyeol has the radio set to an unassuming pop station with the volume on low. He hasn’t said anything yet really, and Jongin shudders thinking about whatever Chanyeol has rolled up in his arsenal for tonight.

The longer they drive, the farther away they get from the city, and the antsier Jongin feels. This particular patch of Seoul has become his home for the last couple of years, and while it’s not without his faults, he finds it hard to find safety in the unknown. Chanyeol takes him on turns and loops and streets that Jongin has never seen before, unfamiliar foliage and trees he can just barely make out in the moonlight. They’ve been driving for over an hour now, and been silent for just as long. Before Jongin has a chance to voice his concerns that Chanyeol is about to recreate  _ The Hills Have Eyes  _ with him, they pull into the driveway of a quaint cottage like home. The porch light is on, illuminating the front door step. 

“We’re here,” Chanyeol says, parking the car and turning off the engine. Jongin gulps. Chanyeol gets out of the car and Jongin follows his lead, closing the door quietly behind him. His feet crunch the gravel underneath, as he trails behind Chanyeol’s looming form. Jongin takes in the sight of the cottage, the front of it covered in different flowering plants, some of them flowing out of their buckets and into the earth below. The porch light illuminates part of this, and Jongin’s eyes focus in on the door mat, a picture of a cartoon dog saying  _ Have a Ruffunderful Day!  _ He takes his shoes off and leaves them on the side of the mat, before following Chanyeol inside.

Immediately, Chanyeol flips on the lights, and Jongin is inundated with how small and cozy it is inside the cottage. It’s an open floor plan, kind of one big room, and the first thing that catches Jongin’s eyes is the ugly mismatched rag rug on the floor of what seems to be the living room. There’s a brown sofa on it that looks more modern and out of place, and the walls are covered in photos. There’s a coffee table with an array of different cups on it, magazines on the side of the couch, and what definitely looks like a fake potted plant near the back of the wall, next to a sliding screen door. All in all, the cottage is filled with knick knacks and awful color schemes that don’t look like they go together, but Jongin feels an almost overwhelming level of  _ hominess  _ radiating from the place. Like he can look at the various things and know that someone’s here, that’s someone’s presence is felt, and it feels so much different from the all sleek, all modern—almost cold—type of setting that Junmyeon has back at their place in the city. 

Jongin turns to Chanyeol who’s got an eyebrow raised up, watching him curiously.

“So,” Jongin starts, smacking his lips together. His throat feels dry.

“Would you like a drink?” Chanyeol asks.

“Huh?”

“Water, Jongin,” Chanyeol chides, “do you want a glass of water?”

Jongin rocks back on his heels. Huh. He figured whatever Chanyeol had in store for them would kick in near immediately by walking through the front door. Jongin finds himself nodding as Chanyeol walks into the kitchen, pushing a glass of water his direction. Jongin picks it up, and takes a small sip, giving himself something to do.

“We’re home alone,” Chanyeol says, “welcome to my humble abode.” He offers a smile. Jongin blinks, feeling out of his element.

“I thought—”

“You’ll meet my  _ family _ ,” Chanyeol says that last word with such softness, Jongin can feel the way he truly means it, “in due time. For now… it’s just the two of us.”

“Just the two of us,” Jongin repeats, sipping from his glass of water once again. Jongin doesn’t let himself dwell on the way Chanyeol says the word  _ family _ . Like it goes beyond flesh and blood—like it means something deeper to him. It takes everything in Jongin to meet Chanyeol’s gaze. He’s assessing, he’s calculating, but his eyes show an openness Jongin had not seen before. Too busy being hungry, he presumes, and then remembers that this is only the third time he’s seen Chanyeol in person.

“You’re going to need a safe word,” Chanyeol says, voice strong. 

“I thought—that’s only for sex. And you! You said—”

“Jongin,” Chanyeol’s voice leaves no room for questions. “A safe word isn’t just for BDSM. And whatever you know about BDSM—”

“I’m almost four hundred fucking years old!” Jongin snaps, “I might as well have known the motherfucker who  _ invented  _ it.”

Chanyeol grins, “There he is,” he says.

“Who?” Jongin questions, and feels his hackles rise. The distraction of Chanyeol over the last couple weeks, the illusion of safety—seems to all disappear the moment Chanyeol opens his damn mouth.

“You,” Chanyeol breathes out, and steps closer. “You and all your fire.”

“Mr. Park—”

“Your passion,” Chanyeol continues, as if Jongin hadn’t interrupted him, “your personality. Your  _ fight _ .”

“Mr. Park,” Jongin repeats. And feels his blood boil like an undercurrent to his skin.

“I told you to call me Chanyeol.” He tsks.

“Right.” Jongin crosses his arms. They stare at each other for a while, each not backing down. Chanyeol grins, suddenly, a laugh coming out of his mouth. 

“Safeword,” Chanyeol repeats, “if you knew the inventor of BDSM, so you say, you’d know it’s more than just for sex. You’d know its for—”

“Ending a scene.” Jongin finishes. And Chanyeol smiles.

“Someone did their homework?”

“I was telling the truth.”

Chanyeol snorts, and raises an eyebrow at Jongin. “I promised you I would never fuck you unless you asked for it.”

“I won’t ask for it,” Jongin says all too quickly, and Chanyeol doesn’t look convinced. 

“Nevertheless,” Chanyeol says, rolling his eyes, “this is going to help you. Trust me. Now give me a safeword.”

Jongin wracks his brain, the urge to keep needling against Chanyeol still the strongest desire in his body. However, he knows for a fact that Chanyeol is definitely the type to be too stubborn, the type who will push right back against Jongin every step of the way. And mostly, Jongin really just wants to go home and sleep.

“Daffodil,” Jongin mutters, and thinks about the garden he used to own in France. “Daffodil.”

Chanyeol watches him curiously. Jongin wonders if Chanyeol knows what flowers mean. He hopes Chanyeol does not.

“Every time we meet, we will set the scene,” Chanyeol says, and he gestures for Jongin to go back to the living room with him. They fall onto the couch, thighs nearly touching. “This is for your benefit, and for mine. A simple gesture, a word. We will always start in my basement room, to make it easier. And you will always begin on your knees.”

“Fuck you,” Jongin bites out, feeling utterly humiliated. It’s the easiest way to begin a scene, the easiest way to start him on his knees, under Chanyeol’s command. And then to move on from there at whatever pace necessary.

“Do you have any other suggestions?” Chanyeol throws out, “because go ahead—I’m all ears.”

Jongin keeps his mouth shut, “No.” Fuck it, he thinks.  _ I’ll just grin and bear it _ . He can start on his knees to set the scene and then it can just be business as usual. 

“You need to be 100% committed to this, Jongin,” Chanyeol chides, “This is for your future.”

_ What future?  _ Jongin wants to ask, because he doesn’t feel like there’s much on this planet that keeps him going anymore. 

“Think about Junmyeon,” Chanyeol adds, and Jongin feels it like a slap to the face. Thinks about how Junmyeon and Baekhyun were cuddled up in the dining area before he left the house, staring at each other, not an absolute care in the world.

“That was a low blow, Mr. Park.”

“Did it work?”

Jongin wants to laugh at that quip, but he sucks his bottom lip in his mouth instead. “Yes, it did,” he admits plainly. Because there’s no point in hiding that part of him around Chanyeol. Around maybe the only person who actually  _ knows _ . 

“During the scene,” Chanyeol continues, “you’ll call me sir.”

“Not Alpha?”

“I told you, that’s around pack only.”

“Any other rules?” Jongin asks, feeling antsy. He just wants to get this started, he just wants to distract himself before the feeling of being hungry comes back in force.

“Follow the rules, respect yourself—respect me. And use your safeword if you need too. I might be a werewolf, Jongin,” Chanyeol says, “but I am  _ not  _ going to hurt you purposefully. I  _ promise  _ you that.”

“Purposefully…” Jongin repeats, and his mind echoes back and forth with all the implications laden in that word.

Chanyeol gets up off the couch, and extends a hand out to Jongin. 

Jongin stares at Chanyeol’s hand, an iron grip, a death sentence. 

An alternative.

He clasps their palms tightly, and Chanyeol hoists him up off the couch. 

“Shall we?” Chanyeol says, and Jongin can only nod as Chanyeol pulls him away.

***

Chanyeol pushes open the door to the basement and Jongin realizes it is essentially a padded room. There is a fluorescent light that hangs from the ceiling, and a small mirror and sink on the side. Jongin looks around, reaching a hand out to press against the cushioned wall.

“This is where we tame feral wolves,” Chanyeol offers when he meets Jongin’s puzzled expression.

“Aren’t you all feral?” Jongin asks.

“Some in more ways than one,” Chanyeol answers vaguely, and Jongin finds himself not wanting to know what that really means. 

Jongin walks farther into the basement and Chanyeol shuts the door quietly behind them. He looks around the barren room more, before his eyes land on Chanyeol and the way he’s studying him.

“Do we start?” Jongin asks offhandedly.

“You set the scene,” Chanyeol reminds him, “you tell  _ me  _ when to begin.”

Jongin sighs, he knows. He knows and he’s being an ass and he’s just wasting time. He vaguely wonders, once again, what Junmyeon must have done for Chanyeol. To get an Alpha werewolf, of all people, to owe you a favor. Jongin thinks about his home, he thinks about Junmyeon, about Baekhyun. About the cat videos he spends all his time watching, the intermittent, the few and far inbetween texts he and Sehun share. Jongin feels the loneliness settles on his body like a taut, second skin. He feels nostalgia crash over him in waves, and tries to remember what blinding sunlight felt like on his skin. He thinks all at once about Wilde again, and the same old shit that haunts him at night, pilfers through his mind once more. Jongin wonders if he has lived any of his life. Jongin wonders if he has any life left to live. 

Being immortal… 

It’s such a long time.

Jongin sighs, and drops to his knees. 

He bows his head, avoiding Chanyeol’s gaze, a movement that isn’t necessary but feels cursory all the same. He crosses his hands behind him, wrists resting at the small of his back. Jongin soaks in the silence, and tries to will away the hunger.

“What do we have here?” Chanyeol says, and oh, Jongin thinks. This tone of voice is unlike anything Jongin has heard before. It’s weighted, it’s thick, it feels like Chanyeol’s words lay against his skin, pushing him down, putting him in place. Jongin realizes now, that this must be the Alpha speaking, the commandeer of the pack. 

“A vampire?” he continues, in that same drawl, and Jongin knows this is  _ all  _ Mr. Park. This is the man that Jongin should fear, this is the werewolf. This is the creature with no remorse.

“Aren’t you a little far from home?” Chanyeol pushes his foot against the top of Jongin’s thigh. 

Jongin says nothing.

“You will answer when spoken too, young one.” Chanyeol’s voice leaves no room for dissent.

“Yes,” Jongin answers. “I am.”

“Yes who?” Chanyeol asks. “Look at someone when you speak to them. Don’t you know that’s rude?”

Jongin shifts his gaze off the floor and up at Chanyeol’s eyes. “Yes… yes sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Good boy,” Chanyeol says, and then promptly pushes Jongin flat on his back with the weight of his foot.

“Hey what—”

“A feral vampire you say?” Chanyeol continues as if nothing is amiss. “I’ve seen some feral things in my life and you are definitely not one of them.” He  _ leers _ . 

Jongin has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he bites it back. 

“So why are you here, young one? Why don’t you tell me?” 

Jongin looks up at Chanyeol from where he’s laying on the floor, trying to pull air back into his lungs. He wants to call this shit quits. He didn’t sign up to get pushed around by some asshole.  _ Fuck this. _ Fuck this.

Chanyeol catches Jongin’s eyes. “You have to trust me,” he says, voice normal, “or this will never work.”

“I’m trying,” Jongin whines.

“Try harder.” Chanyeol scolds, before his face closes tight like a shutter, and he resumes the character he’s taken on.

Jongin takes a deep breath. He can do this, right? He doesn’t have anything else left. He doesn’t have anything left to  _ lose _ . And besides he surmises, staring up at Chanyeol from under long eyelashes, if this doesn’t work out, if he can never control his bloodlust, well.

Maybe he can finally see the sun one more time. Jongin exhales.

“My… my sire sent me away,” he murmurs, and after the words escape he realizes he could’ve picked any other angle to use, any other scenario, but the truth rings more hurt than any lie he came up with ever could. “He sent me away,” Jongin repeats again.

Chanyeol’s expression loosens at Jongin’s omission. “And how does that make you feel?” He holds Jongin’s down with his foot placed in the center of Jongin’s chest. Jongin grips Chanyeol’s leg with a firm hand, feels the muscles of his calf. 

“How does it make you feel?” Chanyeol repeats, and his voice is harsh. 

Jongin says nothing. 

“Feral vampires…” Chanyeol says, pressing his foot against Jongin’s chest harder, “you never learn how to listen. You’re monsters. You’re pathetic.”

“Hey—“

“Get up.” Chanyeol removes his foot and pulls Jongin up onto his feet. He pushes his shoulders roughly. 

“How does it make you feel?” Chanyeol repeats, and shoves Jongin harder even more. Jongin has no time to react, feeling the way his back is slammed into the padded wall. He bounces off of it, and almost falls into Chanyeol’s arms. 

“Stop pushing me!” Jongin shouts, and feels a bead of sweat on his forehead. He shoves Chanyeol back, just as roughly, and bares his teeth. Jongin knows his eyes must flash red. Can feel his blood boiling in his veins.

“There he is,” Chanyeol says, and grips Jongin’s shoulders before slamming him against the wall once more. “Let him out,” Chanyeol whispers, lips barely caressing the shell of Jongin’s ear. “Let me see the monster.”

Jongin feels angrier than he’s ever felt in his life. He did this centuries ago. He battled against this demon and won, he knows this. He knows this and yet someone directly calling him a monster to his face is making him more livid than he’s ever felt. And coming from a  _ werewolf  _ of all people? “I’m not a—a mons—“

“This is why your sire sent you away,” Chanyeol bulldozes on, uncaring that Jongin was just speaking. “You’re too ruthless, baby. You need someone to tame you.” 

“You’re a fucking werewolf!” Jongin shouts and with all the speed and strength of a vampire, he flings Chanyeol halfway across the room. “If anyone here is a fucking monster, it’s  _ you _ .” 

“Hit me,” Chanyeol taunts. 

“What?” Jongin says, anger slightly abating. Chanyeol must be fucking joking. He can’t possibly—

“I said hit me,” Chanyeol repeats, and he grips Jongin by the jaw. “I know you want too,” Chanyeol whispers, “I know you’re begging for it—even if you won’t say it.” His grip on Jongin’s jaw tightens. Jongin knows if he was human Chanyeol’s strength would have crushed bone. 

“I won’t—“ Chanyeol must be fucking insane. 

Jongin takes a slap across the face. “You’re fucking insane!” He shouts to Chanyeol, cradling his cheek. 

“You have to trust me, goddamn it, Jongin,” Chanyeol says in his normal voice, “this is not going to work if you don’t trust me!” 

“I—I do,” Jongin says weakly. 

“You don’t,” Chanyeol reiterates, “But you need too. I can’t tell you how I know—but I can sense you. I can sense your anguish. Your pain. Your  _ guilt. _ ”

Jongin cuts his eyes away from Chanyeol. 

“Do you still want to finish this?” Chanyeol asks after a long silence. 

“Yes,” Jongin breathes out, tired. “I do.” 

Chanyeol nods his head. Jongin doesn’t let him thoughts linger on the fact that above all else, Chanyeol still asked him. He watches as Chanyeol steels his breath, closes his eyes. 

When he reopens them, they’re red.

_ Oh,  _ Jongin thinks.

Chanyeol picks him up by the neck and lifts him off the ground, his feet dangling in mid-air. Chanyeol squeezes Jongin’s neck on the sides, and Jongin thinks if he was a human, his vision would be blurry right now. Chanyeol drops him like a deadweight to the floor.

“Hit me,” Chanyeol says, one last time. 

Jongin picks his head up from where he’s on the ground and looks at Chanyeol. There’s a glint in his eyes, a challenge, a promise. 

Jongin smiles, for the first time tonight, and then launches himself into Chanyeol’s arms.

From there, it becomes a game of cat and mouse. Jongin throws himself at Chanyeol who expertly dodges him, light on his feet for a wolf. They circle each other for what feels like a century. Jongin watches Chanyeol assessing him, reading him, figuring out what move he might make first. His mind races over the possibilities, over the ways he could get Chanyeol and Chanyeol could get him in return. In a flash, Chanyeol races up against Jongin, to try and pin him to the wall again, but Jongin side steps him quite easily, and using all his vampire strength lands a punch right to Chanyeol’s solar plexus. He gasps out loud, momentarily stunned, but Jongin watches the sheer  _ wonder  _ in Chanyeol’s eyes, and braces himself for the hits he knows is coming. 

“You’re quick,” Chanyeol says, voice strong with an undercurrent of awe.

“You’re quick too,” Jongin says, not feigning surprise, “...sir,” he tacks on at the end, remembering his role. It brings a smile to Chanyeol’s face. 

They dance around each other, like opposing magnets, an energy of pushing and pulling that has Jongin’s skin alighting in a way he hasn’t felt in decades. When Chanyeol gets him in a headlock, Jongin yanks them both down to the mat, as Chanyeol flips midair from being tossed around. They roll around on the mat harshly, taking turns trading swipes, jabs, and knees to the chest. Chanyeol yanks him by his wrist and flips him onto his stomach, holding Jongin’s arm twisted harshly against his back. Jongin can feel the way the bones strain under Chanyeol’s touch. He gasps in pain as he feels the entirety of Chanyeol’s weight pressed against his body, pushing him to the floor. Chanyeol pants into his ear, and Jongin can feel the way the sweat off of Chanyeol is dripping onto his body, the droplets falling on the back of his neck. Jongin feels light as a feather, blood singing a song it hasn’t heard in years. He bucks back against Chanyeol, pushing him off, before reversing their positions, quick as a vampire, pinning Chanyeol’s body underneath him easily. He grips Chanyeol’s hands in his wrists, and feels Chanyeol’s breath against his face. Chanyeol lifts a knee up to Jongin’s groin and suddenly they’re back at it again, fighting and wrestling and pushing each other around. Jongin throws Chanyeol against the wall and he laughs, full bodied, before charging back just as quickly at Jongin again. Jongin side steps him once more, but Chanyeol anticipates it, grabs him by the wrist before throwing him down against the floor. 

Jongin doesn’t even remember why he was so mad earlier, doesn’t even remember why he was so unhappy when he walked in. The euphoria flowing through his veins as Chanyeol now picks him up and presses him bodily against the wall, with all the strength of a werewolf, makes something inside Jongin awaken with desire he has never let himself consider before. Jongin grips Chanyeol’s face in his palms and Chanyeol lets him. His eyes pierce deeply into Jongin’s face, but there is nothing Jongin can read that doesn’t spark  _ wonder _ . Chanyeol’s lets him go and they both fall to the floor in a heap ungracefully. He rolls onto his back, panting hard as he stares up at the ceiling. Jongin feels an overwhelming need to mimic Chanyeol, and finds himself rolling onto his back and doing the same, taking in lungfuls of air he does not need, while his mind feels miles away. He can feel a phantom heart reverberating in his chest, and wonders, if he was alive, if Chanyeol would be able to hear it.

“Sir,” Jongin breathes out, and his mouth is dry. He is suddenly struck with the need to drink water, a desire he hasn’t felt outside of a reflex. He feels dizzy almost, mind foggy in a good way, watching the way that Chanyeol’s shirt front is soaked with sweat. Jongin wonders how long they’ve been wrestling. 

Chanyeol rolls onto his side, “it’s been an hour and a half,” he answers, and Jongin thinks Chanyeol’s a mind reader, until he chuckles at him. 

“You’re speaking out loud,” Chanyeol says, and his voice is soft. 

Jongin feels tingly all over, a certain sense of calmness washing over his body like a breath of fresh air. He’s embarrassed that he was speaking out loud, but the feeling that resides in his body and his mind makes the worry seem so far away. Chanyeol rolls closer and Jongin doesn’t move away from him. Chanyeol pulls Jongin’s body to him, and leaves a warm comforting hand on Jongin’s back.

“You did so well, Jongin,” Chanyeol says, rubbing his hand up and down his side. “A little unconventional, for our first time, but you did so well.”

Jongin nods, feeling unable to speak.  _ He did so well. He did so well.  _ Chanyeol is proud of him. That tingly feeling in his chest increases, and Jongin finds himself nuzzling into Chanyeol’s touch even more. Chanyeol is proud of him.

“I am proud of you,” Chanyeol repeats, and Jongin wonders if he’s speaking out loud again. Chanyeol pushes the sweaty hair away from Jongin’s forehead, and looks deeply into his eyes. Chanyeol holds him that way, too much and not enough, until Jongin can feel his fingertips again, until his mind slowly comes back down from the high of the fight, from the rush of the adrenaline. “You’re amazing, Jongin,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin preens in his hold. They stay like that for a while, until the sweat on Chanyeol’s body runs cold, until Jongin feels like he’s run a marathon in his head. Until Jongin feels like himself again.

“How do you feel now?” Chanyeol asks in their comfortable silence.

And Jongin is almost taken aback by the question. “G-good,” he answers just to provide one, but then realizes…  _ Yeah.  _ He actually does feel really good. His mind feels clear, his chest feels light, and all those problems from earlier, all that anguish about Junmyeon, all that jealousy directed at Baekhyun— 

Well it just seems so far away now.

“I feel calm,” Jongin admits, and moves out of Chanyeol’s hold. “I feel… so good right now.” He looks at Chanyeol now, pinched expression on his face. “What did you do to me?” 

“I told you,” Chanyeol says, getting up off the floor. He extends a hand out to Jongin, who accepts it willingly. Jongin feels himself rise on shaky legs, and Chanyeol steadies him. It’s funny, Jongin thinks to himself, unfearing Chanyeol’s touch against his body. He sighs, feeling like his entire world has just changed. “I’m an Alpha,” Chanyeol says, walking Jongin out of the basement and back to the main floor of his house.

“One day,” Jongin says, “you’ll tell me what that means.” And it shouldn’t be this easy to fall into a camaraderie with Chanyeol. It shouldn’t feel so  _ good _ . But Jongin feels better than he has in a long time. Feels like the weight of his problems have been taken off his shoulders and given to someone else. 

Chanyeol chuckles, before pulling some clothes out of the hallway closet, along with a towel, and offering it to Jongin. “The shower is down the hall,” Chanyeol says, smiling, amicable, and not at all like the man he was earlier. Not at all like the Alpha who gazes ferocious at Jongin and said  _ hit me like you mean it _ . 

Jongin nods his head along with Chanyeol words, a shower sounding like the best thing that could happen to him right now.

“Oh, by the way,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin turns around at the door jamb to the bathroom, “I have some blood bags here for you, in case you’re hungry.”

Jongin blinks twice at Chanyeol’s words, before nodding along, making a noise that he hopes sounds like an affirmative sound. It must work because Chanyeol smiles at him, before walking into another room that Jongin presumes is his bedroom. Jongin locks the bathroom door behind him and turns on the tap, waiting for the water to heat up. He stands under the spray, listless, brain running on autopilot. His mind feels far away again, but it is not the same way that fighting with Chanyeol made him feel. That left him in awe, that left him feeling sated. This feeling, this sense running over him right now, is nothing more than pure  _ shock _ . Jongin works shampoo into his hair, utterly lost in thought. The entire time he prepared for this day, he had feared that the hunger would overtake him. He had feared that the bloodlust would ruin him, that he would end up killing Chanyeol, teeth at his throat—or end up on the business end of Chanyeol’s fangs instead.

Because the truth is, and Jongin is trying to prevent himself from hyperventilating at the revelation, is that the entire time he’s been here, with Chanyeol, the entire time they were throwing each other around like ragdolls in the basement, fists and elbows at the ready—well Jongin has never felt more  _ alive.  _ And he’s grateful for that, truly. And he can’t wait for it to happen again.

But the biggest turning point he thinks, as he dries himself off with the towel Chanyeol gave him, as he pulls himself into clothes that smell just like Chanyeol’s musk, is that overwhelming hunger that sits at the pit of his stomach, that lives in the back of his mind, had not bothered him once tonight. 

Not once at all.

***

Jongin gets home by midnight, and closes the door softly behind him. He walks into the house in a near daze, mind running a million miles a minute, before a voice shocks him out of his reprieve.

“So how did it go?” Baekhyun asks, and Jongin jumps nearly a foot in the air. It’s been a while since someone’s been able to scare him like that. He takes a deep breath, centering himself. After he got out of the shower, he joined Chanyeol at the dining table and they sat across from each other while they ate. Jongin knows it should’ve been weird, or strange at the very least, but instead, as he sucked down the blood in the bags more out of habit and graciousness to his host than actual burning hunger, all he could feel was an overwhelming sense of calm. They talked about everything and nothing. About movies and games—and Jongin was delighted to know someone else was just as bad at pubg as he is. 

“But I still like playing,” Chanyeol had said, “because the rest of my boys enjoy it.”

“Even though you suck?” Jongin blurted out, all pretense thrown out the window. He at least had the decency to feel chagrined. 

Chanyeol had merely smiled, before nodding along, a laugh bubbling from his lips. Jongin found himself getting lost in the sound, and having an out of body experience at the same time. 

The conversation never went deeper than surface level things, and for that Jongin was grateful. He wasn’t quite ready to rip open old wounds again, and wondered if any of Chanyeol’s unique…  _ therapy  _ would ever address those that lay far beneath the surface. By the time Jongin had drained the second blood bag and Chanyeol had eaten his fill of whatever meat soup he cooked, they had settled into a neutral silence. Nothing too comfortable, like a silence with Sehun would be, but nothing too cold or distant—the way silences with Baekhyun and Junmyeon feel more and more these days. Jongin felt like he should say something, should ask about Chanyeol’s methodology. But like most things with Chanyeol, especially concerning his prowess, he had merely shrugged. 

“I’m an Alpha,” Chanyeol had said again and Jongin had shut his mouth, knowing full well that Chanyeol was gonna keep spouting that same bullshit until… well until he decided to finally tell Jongin what the hell that even means. Soon after that, Chanyeol had offered him a ride home, and now Jongin finds himself here, pulled out of his memories by Baekhyun waving a hand in front of his face. 

“Hello?” He says, a little unkindly. “You good?” 

“Yeah,” Jongin replies, and wets his mouth with saliva. He’s pulled back to the current moment, and heaves a sigh. “The… session went well,” Jongin says tentatively, unwilling to give too much away. For some reason, his moment earlier with Chanyeol feels private—intimate. In fact, all the small moments they’ve had thus far feel like precious gems Jongin needs to safekeep. 

Baekhyun waits in the kitchen, glasses low on his face, obviously expecting a deeper elaboration. Jongin doesn’t budge. 

“If Junmyeon sent you out here to wrangle me for details, he can ask me his damn self,” Jongin says, walking away from the kitchen table and to the fridge.  _ Deep breath, deep breath _ , Jongin tells himself, and sucks in a quiet but huge lungful of air. He’s reminded of being laid out on the floor mat of Chanyeol’s basement, and the thought brings him more comfort than he thought possible. 

“Alright, alright,” Baekhyun says, and Jongin turns around to see him with his hands up, in a  _ don’t shoot the messenger  _ type of gesture. 

Jongin makes a noncommittal grunt. 

“He cares about you, you know,” Baekhyun tacks on, as the bout of silence drags on. 

“He sure cares about something,” Jongin mutters quietly to himself. He downs a glass of water from the sink before walking around Baekhyun and getting to his room. He settles in under his blanket, and tries to force himself to sleep, but the overwhelming urge to talk to  _ someone  _ gnaws at him like a vine. Jongin grabs his phone and texts Chanyeol that he arrived home and in bed, before burying it under his pillow. 

Soon, he feels his phone vibrate in his hand. Jongin pulls it up, seeing Chanyeol’s name on the caller ID.

“Hello?” He answers, voice low. He’s lucky enough that a couple years ago they soundproofed the walls in the house, so as to at least give the three of them the illusion of privacy. Right now, Jongin is grateful for that illusion. 

“Jongin,” Chanyeol’s voice comes through clear on the line, “are you alright?”

Jongin sighs. Is he really? He isn’t sure. He felt so good in Chanyeol’s presence. He felt important. Felt…  _ special.  _ And the moment he got home, the moment he shut the door… 

Jongin shakes his head, knowing Chanyeol can’t see the movement, but it’s more for the benefit of himself. Who was he kidding? Of course, of course a small part of him had hoped to see Junmyeon first thing when he walked in, had hoped to hear words of praise and feel a pat on the head. Jongin is doing this  _ for  _ him, afterall. He feels bitter now, just a tad more than usual, and Baekhyun’s demeanor earlier is never any help. To be quite honest, Jongin can’t even remember why looking at Baekhyun made him so upset. Perhaps it’s the reminder… perhaps it’s the reality setting in once again. Because at Chanyeol’s—he could forget everything. Even just for a little while. 

Jongin sighs. 

“Hello?” Chanyeol says again, “I can hear the gears in your brain whirring.” 

“All the way across the city?” Jongin jokes, trying to lighten his mood.

“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and his tone is all seriousness. What?

“That’s funny,” Jongin says, knowing that’s clearly impossible. 

“I had a feeling you were distressed,” Chanyeol says, “is everything okay?”

Jongin bites his lip, sucking the bottom one into his mouth. He debates the pros and cons, weighs the options of being truthful versus the fear of revealing too much. “How do you even know what I’m—you know what never mind,” Jongin interrupts himself, “you’re just gonna answer with ‘I’m an Alpha’ anyway.” 

Chanyeol chuckles across the phone, and it’s a comforting sound in Jongin’s ear. 

“Be kind to yourself, Jongin,” Chanyeol says, and jongin makes a fist under the pillow. “Get some sleep. Whatever troubles you… know that by tomorrow it’ll be gone. Or, at the very least, you get another day to push it away.” 

Now it’s Jongin’s turn to laugh. “You have a way with words, Mr. Park.” 

“I told you—“

“Yeah, yeah, call you by your first name, yeah, yeah,” Jongin interjects, “Mr. Park sounds better… for now.” 

“I’ll hold you to it.”  _ Hold me to the wall _ , Jongin's brain flits back to the memories, of being pressed up against the basement wall, at the choice of words Chanyeol used. The memory is a balm in the storming emotions of his mind. 

“Thank you,” Jongin says into the receiver of his phone, after listening to Chanyeol’s breathing for a minute. 

“Get some rest,” Chanyeol says once more, “and message me when you wake up.” 

“I will,” Jongin says in affirmative, before exchanging greetings one last time, and putting his phone on the side table near his bed. He pulls the covers up once more, this time to right under his chin, and falls into a fitful and restful sleep, a warm timbre welcoming him in his dreams. 

***

From there on out, they meet every week. Jongin feels like something of a dam has broken inside him almost, the need and desire to be around Chanyeol, the push and pull of their relationship and the tension that gets wrung out of him after every “fight” they have. He sleeps more, he feels less aggressive, and seeing Baekhyun and Junmyeon together doesn’t nearly set him off as much as it used too. Where any little instance, any little inconvenience used to bother him, now all Jongin feels is a sense of calm that radiates deep down into his bones, that relaxes him from his core. All he needs to do is remember the way it feels when Chanyeol presses him up against the wall, when Chanyeol throws him against the ground, breath against his cheek, chest expanding with every inhale and exhale. Jongin feels almost drunk on Chanyeol’s scent, feels almost caught in a trance. Just the pressure of Chanyeol’s body against his feels almost Pavlovian now.

Jongin doesn’t even shudder anymore, when they enter the basement that he’s learning to call a second home, when he falls to his knees and  _ assumes the position _ , when he arches his back off the floor trying to buck Chanyeol off of him. It’s a game of cat and mouse, of wolf and vampire, and Jongin has never felt so alive. Chanyeol throws him against the wall and it feels like a promise—Jongin pins Chanyeol with an arm behind his back and it feels like meeting an old friend. Nothing about this dynamic should work, Jongin thinks, and almost laughs to himself when he remembers the beginning, when he remembers being so  _ afraid _ . Chanyeol picks him up off the ground every time, like he weighs nothing, passes Jongin clothes that he pulls out of his own closet, and has a blood bag on the table for Jongin’s dinner. Jongin hasn’t had a routine like this in decades, hasn’t had something or someone to look forward to like this in a long time. The tension sticks in his throat like glue, during the worst moments, when he’s lying in bed at night, staring out at the full moon, wondering where Chanyeol is, wondering what he’s doing. Jongin hasn’t even met Chanyeol’s  _ pack  _ yet, for fuck’s sake. And at 3am, when he should be sleeping, all he does is think about… what could be.

But he would never give Chanyeol the satisfaction, of course. Would never allow him to really  _ know _ . So Jongin goes to their weekly meetings like clockwork, partakes in their weekly sparring sessions like it’s his last day on Earth, and on the drive back home he convinces himself that Chanyeol doesn’t actually mean as much to him as he does. Because this is just his  _ job _ . Because Chanyeol is just a werewolf, after all.

“So,” Chanyeol says, after a particularly grueling sparring session. Chanyeol detaches himself off Jongin’s back after nearly half an hour of getting him out of subspace. Jongin whines, mind still foggy, but much better off now than when he arrived. He had walked in on Junmyeon and Baekhyun fucking on the couch, had caught Baekhyun’s eyes, had seen something in them that told Jongin… more than he ever needed to know. Jongin doesn’t remember much of anything, doesn’t even really remember how he got here, to Chanyeol’s. Just remember calling an Uber and arriving on Chanyeol’s doorstep, completely unannounced. 

“You look awful,” Chanyeol had said,  _ you look angry,  _ his tone implied.

“I need—I need too—” Jongin couldn’t even get the words out, but Chanyeol seemed to know what he meant anyway. Months of being here, of doing this, and he could already read Jongin so easily. 

Chanyeol had nodded without any preamble, led Jongin down into the basement, and let Jongin beat the absolute shit out of him for two hours. Jongin smiles at the memory. 

“Ugh,” Chanyeol says in the present, “it’s a good thing I’m a wolf.”

Jongin's knuckles ache, patches of black and blue adorned over his hands that will soon fade. Jongin takes a look at Chanyeol, who's just lifted his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face. He catches a breath in his throat, looking at the mottled skin, dark blue bruises covering his torso, finger print and hand shaped marks all up and down his arms and sides. He blatantly ignores the abs that Chanyeol has, because it's rude to stare. Yes, that of course is the only reason.

“Why’s that?” Jongin asks, voice finally coming back to him as he averts his gaze from Chanyeol's body.

“You can hit exceptionally hard.”

“Thank you,” Jongin giggles, and he watches the way Chanyeol rolls his eyes. Jongin feels proud. He watches as Chanyeol limps away, thinks about other ways to get him to walk like that, then promptly stops his train of thought before it goes too far. There is no time for 3am thoughts on the floor of the basement.

Chanyeol offers him a hand and Jongin gets up. He holds Chanyeol’s hand just a little bit longer this time, just because. It feels warm, it feels safe. And the irritation he had earlier has abated into nothing but a sore body, and bruised knuckles.

“Thanks,” Jongin says again, not meeting Chanyeol’s eyes. Chanyeol lifts up his chin and makes eye contact. He studies Jongin fiercely—always does.

“You’re welcome,” Chanyeol says, as he leads them out of the room. Jongin never lets go of his hand, and Chanyeol doesn’t drop it either.

***

“You seem much more calm,” Junmyeon says at the dinner table, in fact, the first real dinner that the three of them have had together in a long time. Baekhyun makes a sound of agreement. 

Jongin grunts in approval. He still doesn’t want to speak to either of them.

“The council is happy,” Junmyeon continues, taking Jongin’s grunt as some type of vocal approval to keep talking, when Jongin would much rather have Junmyeon’s silence. 

“The council can kiss my ass,” Jongin mutters, and Junmyeon throws him a dark look.

“Jongin.”

“Whatever,” he replies.

“In any case,” Junmyeon continues, steamrolling as ever, “the council is happy and no more humans are being needlessly killed. I take it Mr. Park’s sessions are helping you then?”

“Yes,” Jongin answers, if just to get Junmyeon off his back.

“What exactly do you do during them?” Baekhyun butts in, and Jongin looks at him for a moment in shock. He thought Chanyeol was relaying all the information of their sessions to Junmyeon. He looks at Junmyeon, who seems to be waiting for a response as well.  _ Oh,  _ Jongin thinks, and feels butterflies swarm his stomach. He doesn’t know why the fact that Chanyeol has kept their sessions a secret means so much to him. It makes it seem like this whole ordeal is worth something. Like Jongin himself is  _ worth _ something. Jongin preens inside.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he says out loud, much to the shock of Junmyeon and Baekhyun.

“Excuse me—”

Jongin waves Junmyeon off. Baekhyun says nothing. “If you must know, you can ask Mr. Park. Though I doubt he will tell you now since he hasn’t said anything already.”

“Jongin—”

“No, I said,” Jongin’s voice is firm, “this is personal now. This is just between Mr. Park and me.”

Jongin looks fiercely at Junmyeon, who eyes him in kind. Jongin does not avert his gaze. This feels special. 

“Fine,” Junmyeon relents after a pause.

“The Council is happy, you said,” Jongin reiterates, “that should be enough.”

“I hope so.”

Jongin looks at Baekhyun, who for once, is smart enough not to say anything. Jongin pushes himself up off the table and goes to his room. He pulls his phone out and responds to the last couple of memes Sehun has sent him, along with some photos of his boyfriend Johnny out together on Fisherman’s Wharf. Jongin almost feels wistful, looking at the photos of Sehun and his happiest moments. A part of him wishes he had gone with Sehun all those years back. But a part of him knows he’d just be doing the same thing there, playing third string to two people who are so deeply in love with each other. 

Jongin throws his phone down, and prepares for a new day. 

***

“I want you to meet my pack,” Chanyeol says, over the phone a few days later. Jongin feels something inside his gut swell. 

“O-okay,” Jongin says into his phone. He hasn’t seen Chanyeol since their meeting last Friday. Jongin finds himself treasuring Fridays more and more for this sole reason. He refuses to think about the  _ why _ . 

“Tonight,” Chanyeol continues, “when I come and pick you up. Behave,” his voice is stern, but sweet through the phone.

“Okay, okay,” Jongin says.

“Oh,” Chanyeol breathes out, “don’t forget the rules. What do you call me?”

“Alpha,” Jongin murmurs, but its short between two breaths.

“I didn’t quite hear that. Say it again.”

“Al-alpha,” Jongin breathes out, and the title doesn’t feel so foreign between his lips anymore.

“Good job,” Chanyeol says and Jongin can imagine the smile gracing his face. They don’t stay on the phone much longer than that, as Chanyeol wants Jongin to get a couple more hours of rest, so they bid their goodbyes once more before Jongin hangs up the phone. He sighs to himself, and looks at the clock on his phone, noting that it’s just past 7am. He knows he won’t be able to sleep for awhile, so Jongin shrugs and decides he has nothing to lose by facetiming Sehun.

“Hello?” Sehun’s face comes into view, where has has a blanket brought up and tucked under his chin.

“Sehun,” Jongin whines, and is met with nothing more than a laugh. It has been such a long time since he’s seen Sehun’s face outside of pictures. “I miss you,” Jongin says.

“We miss you too, hyung!” Another voice chimes in, and Jongin has two seconds to prepare before seeing Johnny’s face come into view. He, unlike Sehun, has no qualms about being bare chested on camera.

“Oh, Jesus, did I interrupt something?”

“No nothing, I promise,” Johnny is quick to say, though Jongin notices the look in Sehun’s eye. He watches as Johnny looks at Sehun, and they exchange a silent conversation before nodding. “It was nice seeing you again, Jongin hyung,” Johnny says, “but I have er… errands to run! Have fun catching up with Sehunnie.” Johnny’s face disappears from frame and Jongin can hear the sound of a door closing.

“Did I really just cock block you?” Jongin says, snorting.

“Yes,” Sehun says, “yes you did,” he laughs. “But it’s fine, Jongin. So what’s up?”

“Are you sure? Jongin asks, suddenly feeling insecure.

“I’m positive,” Sehun notes, getting comfortable on the bed. He goes out of frame for a second before reappearing laying sideways. “I wouldn’t have answered if I wasn’t positive.”

“I’ve been fighting with a werewolf,” Jongin blurts out, “Junmyeon was going to have me sunshined,” he word vomits.

Sehun’s eyes bug out of his head, “Okay… what the fuck? You conveniently left out the werewolf thing…  _ and  _ the sunshine thing. When did this—?”

“It’s been a few months now. Almost four.”

“Jongin.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Well,” Jongin scratches the back of his neck, “if I told you I was going to be threatened with sunshine you would have found a way to fly back to Seoul on the next red eye flight and fought the Council yourself.”

“I’m valid!” Sehun says.

“Yeah, okay and I appreciate the gesture but also I don’t want to see you die.”

“I don’t want to see you die either? Hello? Earth to Jongin?” Sehun runs a hand through his hair. “I know it sucks that I’m living in the states now. But please, do not think for a second that I am not thinking of you, okay?”

Jongin sighs, and instantly feels better. “Thank you, Sehunnie,” he offers Sehun a warm smile.

“You leave for a few years and suddenly everything goes to shit…” Sehun mutters, laughing while rolling his eyes. They catch up on their lives now, and Jongin realizes with a start how much he’s missed this—just Sehun and Jongin times. Sehun tells him all about his and Johnny’s life in San Francisco, about the vampires they’ve met in the bay area, about the clubs they’ve partied at and been banned from. Sehun’s eyes sparkle when he talks about Johnny, his mouth running a mile a minute, and Jongin can’t even blame him for leaving when he did, for chasing after his dreams instead of staying cooped up in the house like the rest of them. Jongin tells Sehun briefly about his life over the last few years, tries his best to imbue it with some excitement, but it sounds mundane and depressing even to his own ears. The only highlight really is— 

“The werewolf,” Sehun says, “what’s his name again? I forgot.”

“I never gave a name,” Jongin says softly.

“You got me,” Sehun shrugs. They sit in silence for a moment. Sehun looks at him, and offers an encouraging smile. 

“His name is… Mr. Park. Well, that’s not his first name but… he’s an Alpha.”

Sehun whistles. “Damn.”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t know,” Jongin says honestly. And maybe it’s the fact that he’s a little sleep deprived, maybe it’s the fact that this is Sehun, his best friend, but he feels compelled to say, “He makes me feel safe… I don’t know how but I just. I feel safe around him.”

“It’s because he’s an Alpha,” Sehun says, slowly nodding.

“You say that like you know what that means,” Jongin snorts.

Sehun looks serious at once. “I do, actually.” Jongin meets his gaze across the phone screen before looking away.

“What?” Jongin is confused.

“Listen,” Sehun says softly, and he looks a little fidgety, almost like he’s worried what Jongin will think. He sighs. 

“Johnny is a wolf,” Sehun says at once.

“What?”

“It’s why I left—why we. Why we had to leave.”

“But I don’t—”

“I love him, you know?” Sehun says, and his eyes sparkle, his voice goes wistful. “I wasn’t sure how Junmyeon would react. How you would for that matter. Johnny was bitten, he wasn’t born. You guys would’ve known. Remember the month before I left? I barely saw him? You kept asking where he was? I was so vague?”

“Yeah,” Jongin says, remembering, “you were so moody.”

“I couldn’t see him,” Sehun says, “because I didn’t want you guys to smell him on me.”

“Sehunnie, I—”

“Please,” he says, “let me finish.” Jongin sucks his bottom lip into his mouth.

“The choice was you guys or Johnny. I chose Johnny. I’m sorry, Jongin. I know you didn’t like that I left. I know you needed a friend. I’m sorry I left you. I didn’t want to but. But…”

“You needed to support him,” Jongin says, sighing, he doesn’t even feel upset at Sehun. Not anymore, at least. It’s been years anyway. Jongin could’ve gone himself and he didn’t. He made his bed and he laid in it.

“I just want you to understand,” Sehun continues, and sighs, “I’ve held this in for so long. But yes… he’s a wolf. He’s no Alpha but… I understand the weight of it.” Sehun nods. Jongin looks at him over the phone screen, and wishes he could give Sehun a hug right now. They just stare at each other for a moment, as Jongin lets himself absorb all the information he just received. 

“I’m glad you’re with this Alpha wolf now, and that he’s helping you. You seem a lot more grounded—even when we were still living together.”

“Yeah he’s… he’s something alright,” Jongin says, not fully capable of explaining it.

“I’m glad out of all Alphas, you’ve got a good one. Chanyeol hyung is very nice. He’s very caring, too.”

“Yeah he’s gre—hey?” Jongin says, Sehun’s words catching up to him. “I never gave his first name.”

Sehun laughs, smirking. “You didn’t need too,” he says, “that’s Johnny’s former Alpha. Who do you think took care of him when he got bit?”

“It’s a small world after all,” Jongin grumbles, to which Sehun laughs. Jongin sighs, “Thank you for telling me,” he says, “thank you for… trusting me with that.”

“I trust you,” Sehun says, “I know you will make the right choices. Sometimes you just need a lot to get there.”

“Are you calling me slow?”

Sehun laughs, “you’re just special, Jonginnie,” and Jongin can imagine if Sehun was here he’d ruffle his hair. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Jongin smiles at him. After a beat, he says, “Mr. Park is so… consuming. He’s just. I don’t think this makes sense but when I’m around him he consumes me. And I don’t feel so hungry. Our… therapy sessions have worked,” Jongin says, internally annoyed that he’s had to resort to calling it therapy when he doesn’t really know how else to phrase it. “My bloodlust is… good for now. I haven’t killed anyone in a long time.” Jongin neglects to mention that the blood bags still make him feel like absolute shit, that even if the strongest parts of the hunger are gone, the real desire for actual blood still lingers in his body, on his tongue, like a phantom limb. Jongin sucks his chapped lips into his mouth and thinks about the blood bags he’ll have to drink again before going to Chanyeol’s house. The thought makes his stomach turn.

“I hope it keeps working for you,” Sehun says after a beat, and Jongin’s eyes flit back to Sehun’s face. “And I also hope you find what you’re looking for.” Sehun smiles. 

“Have you bit him, yet?” Sehun asks, after a few moments of silence.

“Bit? Like feed from him?”

“Yeah.”

“No, I haven’t,” Jongin says, though he won’t lie and say he hasn’t thought about it before. “Why?”

Sehun shrugs, though there is a special glint in his eye. “No reason. I was just curious.”

“Have you—”

A soft knock sounds on the door and Jongin watches as Sehun turns to it. “Oh, my baby,” he mutters, “he’s probably read every magazine in the house waiting for me,” Sehun laughs to himself.

Jongin hates the abrupt change of topic, but accepts it all the same. “Ah, I feel so bad, how long have we been on the phone?”

“A couple hours,” Sehun says, and Jongin yawns as he speaks.

“Fuck, I’m tired.”

“Sleep, hyung,” Sehun says, “thank you for calling me. I missed you.”

“Thank you for answering. I love you,” Jongin replies. “Tell Johnny I said sorry for keeping you away so long.”

“Nah,” Sehun says, “he’s gonna be so needy maybe I won’t even need to beg him to knot me.”

“I don’t even wanna know what that means,” Jongin says, “Goodbye Sehun!” he says, as he hits the end call button to the sound of Sehun’s laughter.

Jongin lies in bed, feeling like a huge weight is gone off his chest. He really did miss Sehun so much, and his heart and mind feel better for it. But all that talk about Chanyeol has just made Jongin miss him now, and made his dependence on the werewolf come to the forefront of his mind. Yes, it has been months of their relationship. Yes, tonight is something absolutely pivotal in that relationship.

Jongin is utterly terrified of messing it up. 

He rolls over on his bed and pulls the covers up over himself, hoping the few hours of sleep he’ll get will be enough to calm the racing of his heart.

***

“This is my family,” Chanyeol says, opening the door of the cottage as Jongin trails behind him. “Don’t forget the rules.” Jongin nods and wipes his palms against his jeans. When they enter Chanyeol’s home, this time it is not the silence that greets them, but the loud, raucous cheers of many different voices and scents. Jongin feels a little overwhelmed, and grabs onto Chanyeol’s arm for comfort. “Mr. P—Alpha,” Jongin says softly, and at once, six pairs of eyes stop their talking, and turn towards them. Curse werewolves and their super hearing.

“Alpha?” A man with a curly smile says, barely suppressing a snort.

“Jongdae,” Chanyeol says, directly at the man, “be kind,” then turns to address everyone at large. “This is Jongin. Say ‘hello.’”

A chorus of niceties greet Jongin, but he still feels himself tremble slightly in their presence. His internal hackles are rising, being surrounded by so many wolves. He feels a strong grip on his arm, placating him and keeping him in place. Jongin drank three blood bags before he came over here, and feels his stomach in knots again. He can do this. He can do this. 

“I’m Kyungsoo,” one of them comes up to him, with a deep voice. He offers Jongin a warm, genuine smile. He has glasses, and a buzz cut head. Jongin returns the smile, and sticks out a shaky palm. 

“Jongin,” he repeats, even though Chanyeol has introduced him. Chanyeol has also not left his side. Jongin feels like the starring act in a circus.

“They can all get pretty crazy,” Kyungsoo murmurs, “just try to ignore them. I promise no one is really mean.”

“Th-thanks,” Jongin says, and Kyungsoo nods his head, before walking off into the direction of the kitchen. 

“I think you’ll like Soo,” Chanyeol murmurs, just for Jongin to hear. He grips Chanyeol’s arm tighter.

“Why do you say that?”

Chanyeol shrugs. “He’s quiet. Unassuming. Reminds me of you.”

“‘Quiet’ has never been a word you’ve previously used to describe me,” Jongin snorts. He looks up at Chanyeol who’s got a little twinkle in his eye. He winks at Jongin only, and says nothing else. Jongin is suddenly reminded that Chanyeol is light years away. 

“C’mon,” Chanyeol says instead, “let’s have a seat.” He pulls Jongin along into the living room to have a seat on the now coincidentally vacated couch. Jongin runs his bare feet across the shag carpet, anxiousness filling his body. He thinks about the blood he drank earlier and hope that it’s enough. Chanyeol pats his leg and Jongin focuses back on him again. He offers Chanyeol a warm smile and exhales slowly. Jongin can do this.

He lets the din of the wolves wash over him and create a cozy atmosphere. Jongin remains quiet throughout the night but he  _ is  _ observant, and he catalogs the way everyone in the pack dynamic moves around each other with ease. Chanyeol whispers their names into his ear softly, points out Jongdae—the wolf from earlier—again, who is currently wrestling on the playstation with another wolf named Yixing. Both of them are speaking in a language Jongin doesn’t recognize at first, until, a third wolf, this one bigger—and even taller than Chanyeol—joins in their rapid fire speech.

“Is that Mandarin?” Jongin asks, quietly, to which Chanyeol nods.

“You speak?” 

Jongin shrugs, feeling a little insecure again. He continues watching the three wolves wrestle and laugh amongst themselves, before a voice calls out, “Dinner’s ready!” Jongin immediately recognizes it as Kyungsoo’s voice, and suddenly feels bad that he seems to have been cooking while they were all lounging around.

“Should I have offered help?” Jongin says in a small voice, to Chanyeol, and it hits him all at once that he really,  _ really _ , wants Chanyeol’s family to like him. He refuses to break down the  _ why _ . They make their way out of the couch and to the kitchen table that Jongin knows so well. Chanyeol motions him to sit right beside him.

“With Soo?” Chanyeol asks, before shuddering. “Absolutely not. He is divine in the kitchen, but an absolute nutjob.”

“I can hear you, Chanyeol,” Kyungsoo’s grumbling voice rings out.

“Then you know exactly why I’m warning poor Jongin about your temper when people touch your kitchen tools.”

“Whatever,” Kyungsoo says, rolling his eyes, before coming out of the kitchen with a big pot of stew.

“It smells delicious, Soo,” the big wolf from earlier says. Jongin turns to him and studies his face, and thinks that he seems scarier than even Chanyeol does. His thick eyebrows are expressive and his eyes seem cold to the surface, but when he looks at Kyungsoo, Jongin sees nothing but the most open, and honest expression there.

“Thank you Kris hyung,” Kyungsoo says, before turning away. “Plate up your food yourselves,” he barks out, “just because I cook doesn’t mean this is full service.”

“‘Thank you Kris hyung,’” Jongdae repeats in a mock voice, before he gets whacked in the back of the head with a wooden spoon. “Hey!”

“I will make you eat leftovers,” Kyungsoo says, and Jongin stifles a giggle, because he knows Kyungsoo is one-hundred percent serious.

Immediately, Jongdae’s demeanor flips. “No! No left overs! Sorry, Soo I’m just joking! I’m joking!”

Chanyeol snorts out loud and everyone turns to him. “Let’s have a nice meal, everyone, how about that?” Chanyeol looks at all of them, before rolling his eyes, “Let’s eat!” He says, and then Jongin watches as everyone digs into their food. He hadn’t even realized that the wolves were waiting for Chanyeol’s permission. 

“Oh,” Yixing pipes up, before getting out of his chair and going back to the kitchen. He comes back with a bag of O-negative blood and a cup and hands it to Jongin. “We have food for you too!”

“Thank you, Yi-Yixing,” Jongin says, and accepts the blood gratefully. He notices the rest of the table watching him intently, so Jongin takes the blood bag and upends it into the big cup. He gulps, afraid of what another blood bag might do. But he doesn’t want to be disrespectful, so he takes a gentle sip. 

“Are you going to watch Jongin eat or are you going to eat your food yourself?” Chanyeol adds in, with an eye roll. That seems to snap the rest of them out of their stares as they go back and focus on their meals. Sitting here, on a table with werewolves, Jongin watches them eat with a ferocity that could rival his bloodlust. Where he thought Kyungsoo had cooked too much food, it seems to be just enough to satiate the hunger of five healthy adult wolves. The only sounds that accompany the soft murmurs of voices every now and then are the scraping of spoons against bowls, and the occasional sound of slurping. Jongin hasn’t been surrounded by people who eat real food in so long, and it washes him in a calmness he didn’t think he missed. 

“Can you eat real food?” Jongdae pipes up, and Jongin realizes that the question is being directed at him. He looks at Chanyeol first, before getting a nod, almost a gentle  _ go ahead and answer him _ gesture.

“Yes and no,” Jongin says, “I can eat regular food but it doesn’t do anything for me. I can taste all the flavors and everything but… I’m still hungry afterwards, so. I just don’t eat human food.”

“A shame,” Jongdae says, “food is one of life’s greatest joys.”

Jongin feels a pit open in his stomach.  _ One of life’s greatest joys.  _ The mere thought makes him upset. He carefully sips his blood cup again, nodding at Jongdae. The truth is Jongin used to eat regular food, just for fun. Because humans cooked some really fun things and it was just the novelty of trying the flavors, even if he always had to drink blood again. He thinks about the last time he allowed himself to have fun, even with something like eating food. 

“Open,” Chanyeol says, and his voice pulls Jongin out of his thoughts. He looks up at Chanyeol’s eyes and sees something there.

“Open your mouth,” Chanyeol says softly, and Jongin doesn’t even think as he opens his mouth wide. Chanyeol pushes a spoonful of stew into his mouth and Jongin closes his lips around it, keeping eye contact with Chanyeol the entire time. Chanyeol removes the spoon from Jongin’s mouth and he swallows obediently. 

“How does it taste?” Chanyeol asks, voice low.

“It tastes good, Alpha,” Jongin replies. He feels Chanyeol’s palm on his inner thigh, a grounding touch, something to focus on. Jongin turns to Kyungsoo, “The dinner tastes good,” he gives him a small smile. 

Chanyeol reaches down and Jongin feels his mouth against his ear, “Good boy,” he whispers and Jongin closes his eyes against the praise. Suddenly the dark thoughts about missing food seem so far away. He wants to try more. He wants to eat more. 

“Alpha,” Jongin says, albeit a bit loudly. He doesn’t care about the four sets of eyes staring at him in surprise, “can I please have some more?”

“Of course you can,” Chanyeol says softly, and he runs a hand through Jongin’s hair. Chanyeol stands and makes a bowl for Jongin before pushing it in front of him. He pats Jongin’s head one more time. “Eat,” Chanyeol says and Jongin complies. 

“Wow, okay,” Jongdae says in the silence, and Jongin watches as Yixing this time, smacks him across the back of the head. 

“Shush!” Yixing says, and Jongdae looks like he’s going to say something before Kris grabs his arm, keeping him in place. Jongdae grumbles before going back to his food.

Jongin eats softly, blood cup forgotten. He lets the taste of human food wash over his palette, lets the flavors and spices make magic on his tongue. The stew fills him with a happy warmth he hasn’t gotten in so long, a fire he can feel all the way down to his toes. Even though it won’t satiate the hunger, the stew makes him feel so  _ good _ . Before he knows it Jongin is scraping the bottom of the bowl himself, and licking up the remnants of the food around his mouth.

“Come here,” he turns to Chanyeol’s voice, who has a napkin in his hand. He lets Chanyeol wipe up the mess on his mouth without complaint. Chanyeol’s touch feels so good on his skin. So comforting. He doesn’t know why he was so scared earlier. Chanyeol squeezes his inner thigh again and Jongin’s eyes flutter close at the sensation. Soon after that they finish eating, and this time around Jongin does volunteer to wash the dishes. It’s apparently Yixing’s turn to do the dishes, and he feels bad leaving it for Jongin, so Jongin suggests they tag team. Yixing gives him a dimpled smile in return.

They wash and dry together quietly in the kitchen, while the loud laughter in the living room filters over slowly. Jongin thinks he might like Yixing too, with his quiet and unassuming presence. Yixing doesn’t feel pushy like Jongdae does, and so Jongin feels himself able to relax his hackles just a little bit around the wolf. Yixing passes him every plate and Jongin diligently washes it before putting it away.

“You’ve been here quite often to know where the plates go, huh?” Yixing says as a non sequitur, and Jongin smiles at that, grateful for a seemingly normal conversation starter.

“I usually watch Mr. P—Alpha eat human food,” Jongin says, opening the shelf and putting the bowls up. “I’ll drink blood.”

“Chanyeol does know his way around the kitchen even if it doesn’t look like it,” Yixing says, handing Jongin another plate.

_ Chanyeol _ ? Jongin thinks to himself, slightly confused. They return to dish washing in comfortable silence, and it isn’t until they’re just about wrapped up that Jongin asks the question that’s been bugging him since they started.

“Why do you call Alpha by his first name?”

Yixing looks at him fully, a twinkle in his eye. “What else would we call him?”

“Alpha?” Jongin suggests.

Yixing laughs, “None of us have the right to do so.”

“What?” Jongin asks, now even more confused.

Yixing reaches out a hand slowly, resting it on Jongin’s shoulder. He anticipates the hand, so he allows the touch to happen. 

“I can’t tell you,” Yixing says, “it isn’t my place. But know that you’re in good hands.”

Jongin nods along, unsure what else to say. He doesn’t know Yixing, but he does know what trustworthiness feels like, and Yixing has done nothing but radiate that.

“I know,” Jongin says, “Alpha is… I know.” He nods along, unsure how to phrase his thoughts, unwilling to voice this out loud to someone in Chanyeol’s family. But he hopes Yixing understands, and by the dimpled smile he receives in return, Jongin sighs in relief, knowing he’s been heard.

They make their way back to the living room, and Yixing goes right into the thick of it, jumps on Kris’ back like he doesn’t have a care in the world. All of them fall in and start speaking in rapid fire Mandarin again, and Jongin finds himself barely able to keep up. He looks around for a place to sit before seeing a space near Chanyeol. He makes his way over and sits down gently, between Chanyeol and Kyungsoo, while the others argue over the game controllers on the floor. 

“How are you feeling?” Chanyeol asks, as Jongin sinks into Chanyeol’s warmth. “I feel good,” he replies softly, snuggling closer. “Yixing was very nice,” he adds on as an afterthought.

Chanyeol hums in acknowledgement. They both turn back to the Mario Kart nonsense happening on screen, and Jongin lets Jongdae’s loud voice fill his mind. It’s easy to let their laughter and happiness take over him, let them wash away his anxiousness as they fight over hitting each other with blue shells. Chanyeol seems to always step in before it escalates too far, and then the dynamic always readjusts back to normal, playful bickering, instead of a detrimental stony silence. 

Jongin finds himself loving the atmosphere here so,  _ so _ , much. 

“I’m gonna cut up that melon in the fridge,” Jongdae says, after losing another round of Mario Kart. “I’m getting hungry again.”

“Yeah right,” Kris fires back, “you’re just mad you lost again.”

Jongin’s eyes widen when he hears Jongdae share some extremely colorful insults in Chinese, before he skips his way into the kitchen. Yixing is rolling on the floor with tears in his eyes as Kris sits on the ground, red in the face, trying to calm his breathing.

“He just called Kris a cow,” Jongin mutters, trying his darnedest not to laugh and failing miserably. He can’t stop looking at Yixing, who seems to just be absolutely losing it, and soon enough Jongin’s eyes cut to Kyungsoo who is just barely containing himself.

“Fuck,” he says, before he starts laughing too, full bodied, high pitched, and ugly. Jongin finds himself shaking with laughter so hard against Chanyeol, and before he realizes it he sees all eyes trained on him, which only makes him laugh harder. “He called you a cow!” Jongin says, looking at Kris.

“Wait, you speak Chinese?” Kris says, at the same time Yixing doubles over once more hollering, “A fucking cow,” before the laughter starts up again. Jongin feels Chanyeol start laughing next to him, and soon hears Kyungsoo join in. It isn’t long before Kris starts cracking as well, joining in on the laughter even if he was originally the butt of the joke himself. 

It isn’t until a loud crash and a resounding, “Fuck!” cuts through the laughter that everyone seems to stop dead in their tracks. 

The smell of fresh blood fills Jongin’s nose, and immediately he feels his fangs drop. 

“Alpha,” Jongin looks at Chanyeol, “blood, blood, bl-blood,” he chants, staring into Chanyeol’s eyes. 

Jongdae makes his way into the living room, muttering curses under his breath. He clutches his hand to his chest, and Jongin watches as the blood drips down his arm. He pushes against Chanyeol’s hold, suddenly feeling sick. “I’m going to puke,” Jongin mutters, “I don’t feel so good…”

“Kyungsoo!” Chanyeol shouts, get Jongdae away from here. He nods quickly and the wolf moves to quickly get Jongdae outside the house, before he can even process what’s going on. Jongin has a moment to think that Chanyeol might be thinking he’s going into bloodlust, but no. That’s not it. This feels different. This feels— 

“Mr. Park,” Jongin says, dry heaving at the smell of blood that seems to permeate his nostrils, “I don’t feel—I don’t feel good,” Jongin gets up off the couch before crashing down onto his knees, gagging. “The blood, the blood,” he repeats, and Jongin feels his senses and his stomach going haywire. 

“Clean it up guys,” Chanyeol says out loud, and Jongin thinks he must be talking to Kris and Yixing, who have spent the entire time standing there in shock. Jongin feels his body go cold suddenly, shivers wracking his spine. Was it Jongdae’s blood? Was it the smell? Jongin can’t ever remember blood lust feeling like this. It used to feel euphoric, freeing. Jongin feels right now like his stomach is going to eat itself from the inside out.

“I’m cold, cold,” he repeats, and Chanyeol pulls him close in his arms. Jongin’s stomach feels tight, as a wave of nausea washes over him.

Nausea.

_ Oh no _ .

“Bathroom,” Jongin says tightly, “get me to the bathroom.”

Chanyeol picks him up and carries Jongin to the bathroom, before depositing him on the floor, Jongin gets himself over the toilet bowl just in time to puke up the entire contents of his stomach. Jongin knows what this means, as he continues dry gagging over the toilet bowl. Feeling more and more flushed and feverish, eyes focusing in and out. He feels a hand running fingers through his sweaty hair, a palm caressing his cheek. Jongin turns away from Chanyeol’s touch as he throws up again, all of the bad blood that’s been pulsing through his system since he switched to blood bags. Jongin throws up and throws up until he feels like his throat has been dragged across a coal-bed. He throws up until he feels like he might collapse under the pain of it, until the knot in his stomach has loosened enough to give him a reprieve. He dry heaves over the toilet bowl and coughs violently, body shaking and wracking harshly. 

“Alpha,” Jongin says weakly, voice hoarse.

“I got you,” Chanyeol replies, “I got you,” he says again. 

“I know,” Jongin agrees, eyes rolling back in his head, before he feels himself black out completely.

  
  



	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance. -- Oscar Wilde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for waiting everyone! and happy birthday to our beloved Jongin ❤️
> 
> _may the stars shine brightly, without fault, wherever you are in this world. _
> 
> this chapter, and this fic in general is only beta'd/proofread by myself. any mistakes are all my own. i have been self conscious for this fic from the beginning of writing it, but all of your comments have been so wonderful and cheerful. thank you so much for your support, from the bottom of my heart. i would not have been able to finish this without all of your kindness in the comments here and on my curiouscat. thank you everyone! i couldn't have done it without you ~
> 
> without further ado, please enjoy the rest of Desire! thank you so much for your patience, may god bless you 💛

When Jongin comes to, he immediately knows he is not in his own room. For starters, this room smells more earthy and like there’s been candles burning somewhere. Jongin’s eyes open with a jolt as he tries to move, before realizing he simply can’t. He realizes at once that he is weak and in so much pain, his joints and muscles aching. He groans out loud. 

“You’re awake,” a voice says, and Jongin startles in bed. His senses are hindered because of his weakened state, and Jongin beats himself up as Chanyeol comes into his view. 

“Mr. Park,” Jongin wheezes out, and hates how awful he sounds to his own ears. Chanyeol stands over him, stony eyed, and impassive as ever. Jongin wonders what’s wrong.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Nearly a day,” Chanyeol says, eyes still boring holes into Jongin’s face. 

“Is everything o—”

“Were you ever going to tell me that the excessive blood bag drinking was going to kill you, or was I just always supposed to find out whenever your body decided to reject the blood and rid itself of all its contents?”

Jongin’s mouth clicks shut with an audible sound. “Listen, I—”

“Were you ever going to tell me that this was not the first time?” Chanyeol paces around the bed, eyes never leaving Jongin’s, furious expression stuck on his face. “Were you ever going to clue me in on this? Or were you expecting the blood bags to fucking kill you eventually? You know I thought you were being stubborn when you fought me with them in the beginning…” Chanyeol rubs his chin, “but I’m curious now. Jongin, do you want to die? Do you want to die?”

Jongin doesn’t say anything.

“I asked you a question.”

He doesn’t respond.

“_Listen to me_.”

“I don’t know!” Jongin shouts, from where he’s laying on the bed. He barely manages to push himself up into a sitting position, back against the headboard. “I don’t know, okay? I haven’t lived. Not in forever. Who cares if I just drink blood bags until I can’t anymore? Baekhyun doesn’t,” Jongin says, and his voice is ragged, his eyes are blurry. The blood bags make him so weak. Chanyeol’s voice makes him feel smaller than he’s ever felt. 

“Junmyeon d-doesn’t!” Jongin tacks on, because that’s the root of the issue, as always, the absolute bane of his existence.

“Well I do!” Chanyeol shouts into the darkness. And all that accompanies his words is the loud racing of his heart. Jongin can make out Chanyeol’s features in the low light, can see his mouth turned into a sneer, his eyes wide in horror. Jongin can hear Chanyeol’s heartbeat loudly in his ears, can feel the mere pulse of Chanyeol’s blood against his skin. His fangs descend in his mouth again, and he nearly pierces his own lip trying to get them to retract.

“I care,” Chanyeol says, “I care about you so much,” he whispers.

“But you’re just my fucking therapist!” Jongin fires back, and feels so insecure again. The bubble of emotions wells up in his chest, trying to claw their way out. Jongin would rather be hunched over the toilet then deal with the way that Chanyeol makes him feel.

“You scared me,” Chanyeol says.

“You just thought I was going into bloodlust over Jongdae,” Jongin fires back. “You were just scared of me.”

“I will never be scared of you,” Chanyeol says, “I have no fear when it comes to you.”

“Maybe you should,” Jongin mutters, “maybe I should just be sunshined.”

“Don’t say that,” Chanyeol mutters, before making his way to sit on the bed next to Jongin. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I don’t mean to yell at you.”

Jongin sighs. “I’m sorry, too,” he says, “I didn’t think we’d last this long… I didn’t think there was any reason to tell you about the blood bags.”

“Junmyeon doesn’t know,” Chanyeol says, a statement and not a question. He looks over at Jongin. “I had to find out about your allergy through other vampiric means… He also doesn’t know what happened. He thinks you’re here for a scene.”

“Of course,” Jongin mutters. “But yeah… he doesn’t know. And please don’t tell him. Don’t tell him the real reason.”

“Why’d you never say anything? He’s your sire.”

“He’s also busy.”

“Being in love with someone doesn’t make them busy.”

“You haven’t lived with Junmyeon and Baekhyun for the last thirty fucking years. I’m sure Junmyeon’s more or less forgotten most things about me.”

“That’s not true,” Chanyeol says.

“You know more about me currently than he does,” Jongin says. “Why are you even bothering to defend him?” he asks, changing the topic.

Chanyeol shrugs, “It feels like I should.”

“You don’t need to be pleasant around me.”

“When am I ever?” Chanyeol grins, and that gets a small laugh out of Jongin. 

They sit in silence for a while, and Jongin focuses on Chanyeol’s breathing. He wonders what it would be like, had they met in different circumstances. If Chanyeol wasn’t just his werewolf therapist. If Jongin wasn’t a fucked up vampire. He thinks he and Chanyeol would like each other very much. He thinks they could even be—

“You need to eat,” Chanyeol says, interrupting Jongin’s train of thoughts.

“I know,” Jongin mutters. “Also,” he says, “I’m sorry if I scared your family.” Jongin fidgets with his hands. “I want them to like me.”

“They do, trust me,” Chanyeol says, offering Jongin a warm smile. He caresses Jongin’s thigh, giving it a warm squeeze. Chanyeol rolls over Jongin’s body, engulfing him. 

“What-what are you doing?” Jongin asks, suddenly scared. This isn’t the most compromising position the two of them have been in, but on a bed… it suddenly feels so much more intimate. Chanyeol pulls Jongin down to lay flat on his back with his head on the pillows, and Chanyeol hovers. Jongin closes his eyes in his weakened state, knowing Chanyeol could do anything to him and he couldn’t fight back. But something inside him tells him that Chanyeol would never hurt him that way. 

“You need to feed,” Chanyeol says again, laying his entire body weight on Jongin’s body. 

“I will, I will, I just… I’ll have to space out the blood bags.”

“No,” Chanyeol says, holding his body above Jongin’s, hands placed on either side of Jongin’s head. “No blood bags.”

“Then how—”

“Have you ever tasted werewolf blood before?” Chanyeol asks abruptly, eyes set and determined. He rests his entire weight on Jongin’s body as a focal point.

“I can’t—can’t say I’ve ever had the opportunity too,” Jongin says, voice neutral. Of course, he’s heard rumors of what werewolf blood can do to vampires. The tall tales that say it heals, that it _ fixes _. But Jongin’s never met a vampire who’d ever risk letting a werewolf that close to their neck, who’d ever…

_ Sehun _. 

A million thoughts swim in Jongin’s head, and now he wonders. Does Sehun feed from Johnny? Does Johnny _ let _ him? He knows how protective wolves are with their necks, knows how badly instincts kick in when a vampire is too close. Jongin thinks about the _ love _ expression in Sehun’s eyes over the phone. The way his voice softened at the edges when he talked about his boyfriend. Maybe Jongin will ask him, next time. Or maybe Jongin won’t. But right now, he’s just _ so _ hungry, and protocol be damned, instincts be _ damned _, he just wants—

“Bite me,” Chanyeol says again, and he grips Jongin’s face between two hands. Chanyeol’s moved himself now, to sit on Jongin’s thighs, bracketing him in with his own legs. 

“I don’t, I don’t know what will happen if I feed from you,” Jongin whispers. He hasn’t had fresh blood in _ months _. The chasm in his stomach deepens. Jongin shudders at Chanyeol’s touch. 

“Nothing will happen,” Chanyeol states. 

“How can you be so sure?” Jongin feels himself tremble, and it’s with that that he realizes the real fear, the real possibility that he might actually kill Chanyeol strangles him like a vice. There aren’t many things in this world that bring him joy anymore, there aren’t many people left in this world who make him smile. And Jongin is fast realizing the role that Chanyeol plays in this, in what Jongin calls his _ life _. He can’t lose him, he can’t kill him. Not like this.

“I’m an Alpha,” Chanyeol says, half a smirk, but eyes dead serious. “Trust me, Jongin,” he grips Jongin’s hands, pulls them against his chest. Jongin can feel Chanyeol’s heartbeat underneath his fingers. “I’ll be okay, I promise. You won’t kill me,” and the way Chanyeol voices Jongin’s biggest fear out loud feels like a slap against the face. “Listen to me,” he says, and uses _ that _tone of voice, the one reserved for the basement, for their therapy. Immediately, Jongin feels his body relax in sections. “I trust you, Jonginnie,” Chanyeol moves his hand from his own chest to Jongin’s face, caresses his cheek softly. The nickname makes Jongin’s insides melt.

“Okay,” Jongin says, “okay,” he nods to himself. He can do this. He can feed. He can feed from Chanyeol and he won’t kill him and he will be okay.

Chanyeol will be okay.

Chanyeol nods in agreement, before getting up off the bed and taking off his shirt, along with his pants too.

“Whoa, okay, why are you getting naked?!” Jongin’s voice comes out as a squeak. He tries not to look at the lines of Chanyeol’s body, tries not to focus on the abs, the taut stomach, the big, muscular arms. Chanyeol could pick him up and pin him to a wall. Wait—Chanyeol _ has _picked him up and pinned him to a wall. Jongin feels his brain turn into static. In this context, in a bedroom of all places, he can really only think of one thing.

“Well, I don’t want to get blood on my clothes,” Chanyeol says, shrugging. “I like this shirt.”

“Right,” Jongin says, as his mind continues to live in the places in between gutters. “Blood stains, right.”

Chanyeol crawls back on the bed, and lays flat on his back, right beside Jongin. “Crawl on top of me,” he says, and Jongin strains his body to comply. The actual thirst for blood is now moving from the back to the forefront of his mind, now that the sleepiness and nausea have all but abated. Jongin just feels so hungry now, and his desire to be sated is only held back by the fear of hurting Chanyeol.

Chanyeol situates Jongin over him, so that his body lays flat. “Take your shirt off too,” Chanyeol says, before Jongin gives him a questioning look. 

“You’re a messy eater,” Chanyeol snorts, and Jongin feels embarrassed, recalling the memory of when they first met months ago. 

“Fine, fine,” Jongin says, and lets Chanyeol remove his shirt for him. They’re chest to chest now, almost entirely naked, and the only sound Jongin can focus on is the rapid beating of Chanyeol’s heart.

“Are you n-nervous, Mr. Park?” Jongin asks.

Chanyeol snorts, “What’s it gonna take for you to call me ‘Chanyeol’, huh?” He runs his hand in Jongin’s hair, pushing the strands back off his face. “And yes, of course I’m nervous. I’ve never let a vampire drink from me before. But it’s okay,” Chanyeol rubs Jongin’s face again. “Because it’s _ you _.”

Jongin nods. _ Because it’s you _. A smile breaks out across his face, and before he can help himself, he plants a small kiss on Chanyeol’s mouth. He doesn’t give himself any time to process Chanyeol’s reaction, because swiftly after, Jongin noses along Chanyeol’s jaw, lips pressed to his throat.

“Last chance,” Jongin breathes out, and goosebumps rise up against Chanyeol’s flesh, “to back out.”

“Bite me,” Chanyeol repeats, and so Jongin does.

The rush of warm blood into Jongin’s mouth sends a shiver down his spine, as his eyes widen against the sudden onslaught of the liquid pooling in his mouth. He lets Chanyeol’s blood fill him, and feels Chanyeol’s body go lax under his. He thinks Chanyeol might moan out in pain, but that doesn’t matter. Soon enough, the euphoria that comes with getting fed on will overtake, and any lingering pain Chanyeol might have will be forgotten. Jongin moans against Chanyeol’s throat, and he can feel the blood dripping down his chin as he drinks and drinks. He closes his eyes as he takes from Chanyeol, takes him as his food, takes him for his sustenance. Chanyeol just tastes so _ fucking _good. Like those expensive French cuisines he can’t remember the names of, but used to splurge on when he visited France, like the clam chowder off Pier 39 in Fisherman’s Wharf, like the sweetest Belgian chocolate Jongin can so vividly remember taking off the assembly line. He moans, out loud, and feels Chanyeol’s blood seep down the corners of his mouth. He takes a moment to breathe, fangs still locked in Chanyeol’s neck, before sucking him down one more time.

Soon enough, Jongin feels a hand on the back of his head, and Jongin detaches his fangs from Chanyeol’s head to draw back. He looks at the mess he’s made of Chanyeol, the blood that stains the bed sheets, the jagged teeth marks on Chanyeol’s neck. He looks at Chanyeol’s face, eyes half lidded and closed in pleasure, drunk off the sensation of being sipped. He feels himself, hard in his sleep pants that are most definitely Chanyeol’s, he feels Chanyeol—pressed up and aching against him too.

Jongin wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and it comes away stained red. He laughs to himself, reminiscing of that first meeting once again. 

“You taste so _ good _,” Jongin blurts out, panting, “I’ve never tasted blood as good as yours.”

“I’m an… an—”

“An Alpha, I know,” Jongin says, and lays his body on top of Chanyeol’s presses kisses up and down his chest. He feels euphoric on blood, he feels high—feels drunk. He lets his fangs graze across Chanyeol’s pecs, lets his teeth sink into the flesh of his abs. Jongin bites him again but doesn’t drink. He bites him all over his torso, bites Chanyeol all over his chest until there isn’t a sliver of skin that isn’t marked up. He kisses along Chanyeol’s arms, and bites there on his biceps. He bites along Chanyeol’s shoulders—bites everywhere his mouth can reach. 

And Chanyeol lets him, by _ God _, he lets him. 

Jongin pushes off Chanyeol’s body, and sits on his haunches, legs still straddling Chanyeol’s thighs. He admires his handiwork, admires the way he’s marked Chanyeol up so beautifully.

“You look gorgeous,” Jongin breathes out, and Chanyeol blinks a few times, before his eyes adjust. He runs a hand down his chest, over the bite marks. “You’re mine,” Jongin says, “in a way,” he adds on after a beat. Jongin feels a heat rise to his cheeks, embarrassed slightly at the possessiveness that overwhelmed him.

“I bet I look good,” Chanyeol breathes out, before patting the space on the bed next to him. Jongin fits himself there nicely and Chanyeol pulls him in. Jongin pointedly ignores his own hard on, and thinks Chanyeol is just too out of his mind to realize the physical effect blood drinking has had on him. He wonders if Chanyeol is still under the effects of the vampire venom, or if this is how he gets when he’s sleepy, all soft and gooey around the edges.

“See?” Chanyeol says, and Jongin turns so that their bodies are both facing each other. “I told you you wouldn’t kill me.”

“I-I—”

“I trust you,” Chanyeol says, and this time his voice is clear. “Whenever you’re hungry, come find me.”

“Mr. Park, I—”

“Consider it a new rule,” Chanyeol says, and his tone sounds delighted, but brokers no room for argument. 

“Fine,” Jongin agrees, though he knows Chanyeol’s probably right. He sighs, before snuggling closer to Chanyeol.

“I can’t drive you home in this state,” he says after a few moments of silence, “Would you mind sleeping here?”

“Is that okay?” Jongin’s voice gets tiny, “Your pack, they—”

“Are back at their own homes,” Chanyeol finishes, “don’t worry. It’s just us now.”

“I could always take the bus home.”

“You live over an hour away.”

“But—”

“Do I have to order you to stay?” Chanyeol’s voice is playful again.

“No you don’t,” Jongin replies, “I’ll stay.” 

“Good,” he says, before pulling Jongin’s body closer to his. Jongin lets Chanyeol’s breathing lull him into a comfortable state of mind, before he can tell when it evens out, and knows that Chanyeol is fast asleep. Jongin’s mind races a million miles, covers every single possibility. He thinks about Junmyeon and Baekhyun, and realizes he hasn’t thought much about them at all. He thinks about Sehun and he misses him, most definitely, but the ache doesn’t feel like an open wound anymore. He thinks about Wilde, about Paris, about Fisherman’sWharf.

He thinks about being body slammed against a padded wall, suflexed against a floor, thrown across a room at breakneck speeds, held up against the wall by his neck—thinks about firm hands across his body, a warm press against his thigh.

He thinks about blood, red, red, blood, viscous in consistency and _ vicious _ in taste. He thinks about blood pooling in from his mouth, thinks about the smell of Chanyeol’s sweat, musk, and scent as it permeates his brain every Friday. Jongin stares up at the ceiling as he contemplates the racing of his pulse, the beating of his dead heart, as he wonders why he feels like he’s lived so much more in the last six months than the last fifty years. Jongin presses his nose to Chanyeol’s neck, lets his werewolf scent ground him. He laughs internally, thinking about how months ago, he would never have let a werewolf get this close to him, have never allowed himself to become so attached to one.

He thinks about the time when he thought Chanyeol would hurt him, thinks about his cocky demeanor during that first meeting, those cold, calculating eyes that figured Jongin out in one. Chanyeol still feels like an enigma, he still feels something unreachable. 

But here, cuddled up in his arms, belly full of Chanyeol’s blood, his breath coming fast on Jongin’s neck as his snores give Jongin white noise—

He thinks he’s never felt more at peace than right here in this moment. Jongin lets himself enjoy this for what it is. Lets the warmth of Chanyeol’s body heat him up from the inside, stretch to his toes and fill his nose. Because he doesn’t know how long he’ll get to enjoy this. And Jongin will be damned if he doesn’t get to relish in it. 

He closes his eyes as he pushes himself closer into Chanyeol’s warmth, draping one of Chanyeol’s arms around his shoulders. Jongin lets it consume him as he falls asleep.

***

When Jongin wakes up, he knows his world has shifted on its axis. There is a warm body, burning like a furnace, pressed to his back, and an arm slung tight and gentle around his waist. He feels his brain wake up in sections, from his toes to his hips, his fingers, and down his spine. Jongin opens his eyes and is greeted by the soft glow of nightlight. In his delirium the last time he woke, he didn't have enough time to really scope out the bedroom Chanyeol had him in. His eyes scan over the room quickly, able to see even in such a low light. He finds pictures adorning all sides of the wall, photos of pack members that Jongin met earlier, among other people whose faces he doesn’t recognize. Jongin realizes at once that the room he’s in belongs to none other than Chanyeol himself. 

He turns around in Chanyeol’s grip, careful not to disturb him. Chanyeol jostles in his sleep but otherwise remains resting. Jongin uses this time to really focus on Chanyeol’s face, the planes of his body. He runs his fingers over all the bite marks he left, a blush staining his cheeks. Jongin hasn’t felt this good in so long. His body is singing under the fresh blood Chanyeol gave him—under the _ werewolf _blood that runs through his veins. He stretches his arms out slowly, and feels his body release the tension it held. His muscles feel stronger. His senses feel sharper.

But most importantly—

The hunger that has sat at the back of his mind for so long is all but faded away.

Jongin shivers at the implications, and feels the arm around his back now tighten. He switches his focus back to Chanyeol, whose eyes are fluttering in wakefulness. 

“Morning,”Chanyeol breathes out, voice raspy and deep.

“Good morning,” Jongin replies. Chipper. Excited. Happy.

Chanyeol chuckles lowly before rolling over on top of Jongin to reach his phone on the nightstand. 

“It’s 3 in the morning,” Chanyeol says, “I can take you home now, if you’d like.”

Jongin blinks up at the ceiling. He doesn’t want to leave, is the thing. Though he knows he has too. As much as he would rather stay in this little bubble of his, he needs to go home, needs to resume life as normal. 

He also needs to lock himself in his room, call up Sehun, and ask him some extremely _ pressing _questions. 

But all of that can wait. 

Jongin curls up around Chanyeol’s body again, soaks in the way he feels like a permanent furnace.

“You’re clingy,” Chanyeol notes.

Jongin feels himself freeze, arms retracting slowly. He’s about to say something, before he feels his body being pulled tight towards Chanyeol’s, now both of his arms secure around his slender frame.

“I’m clingy, too,” Chanyeol replies, and he runs his fingers through Jongin’s hair, nails scratching down his scalp. Jongin moans into the feeling.

“You’re so pliant when you’re not starving,” Chanyeol notes, and his hands work more against Jongin’s scalp. “So pliant, so open, so _ pretty _ for me.”

Jongin gasps against Chanyeol’s shoulder, feels Chanyeol’s hand move from his hair to span across his back. “Aside from the obvious blunder,” Chanyeol speaks, “you were perfect at dinner the other night. Can you believe it was the other night? You were asleep for so long.”

“I’m sorry,” Jongin murmurs, embarrassed.

“It’s okay, baby,” Chanyeol says, and the pet name just slips out. Jongin wonders if Chanyeol’s even noticed what he’s said. A thrill runs through him. “Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t.”

“What’s the rule?” Chanyeol’s fingers trail up and down Jongin’s spine, providing a sense of comfort.

“No more blood bags,” Jongin whispers into the skin of Chanyeol’s neck. His hands never stop their motion.

“And?”

“If,” Jongin feels his mind relax, “If I get hungry, I ask you—I call you.”

“No matter the time.”

“No matter the time,” Jongin repeats.

“My good boy,” Chanyeol says.

“Only for Alpha,” Jongin murmurs, sleepy.

“Oh, Jongin,” Chanyeol says, chuckling. “What am I gonna do with you?”

_ Anything you’d like _, Jongin’s brain supplies first, and the singular thought alone is enough to jolt him out of the space in between awake and asleep. He can’t let himself examine that when he’s in Chanyeol’s arms, when he’s safely secured in his hold, when he feels like he’s never felt more at—

He blinks to clear his thoughts, before pulling his head back to look at Chanyeol’s face.

“Mr. Park,” Jongin says, shyly. 

Chanyeol only smiles.

“Don’t forget the rules,” he says, voice chiding.

Jongin nods.

“C’mon he says,”I’ll take you home.”

Jongin gets out of the bed reluctantly, pulling himself into clothes that Chanyeol hands to him. He feels caught in a daze, eyes casting their way towards Chanyeol’s form. He pulls Chanyeol’s sweater over his head before he hears a bark of laughter.

“Damn,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin looks towards him, where he’s studying his body in the wall mounted mirror across the room. “You did a number on me, huh?”

Jongin blushes, looking away.

“I look great,” Chanyeol says, laughing. “But I always look great.”

Jongin rolls his eyes, forcing himself to ignore how easy it is to be with Chanyeol like this. 

When they close the door of the cottage, Jongin is met by the dewy early morning breeze.

“Are you hungry?” Chanyeol asks.

“No,” Jongin says, and this time the answer is honest. “I feel good.”

Chanyeol rubs the back of Jongin’s neck with his hand. 

The touch is warm.

***

It resumes as normal, for the most part, and Jongin and Chanyeol slip back into their weekly sessions as usual. Every now and then Chanyeol will throw Jongin for a loop—an extra pat on the back, a stare, a lopsided smirk—but what remains constant is the way it feels when Chanyeol throws him across the room. 

But now, when they fight, Jongin also feeds.

He was nervous at first, especially after that first initial feeding, and point blank refused or tried his best to decline Chanyeol’s offers of himself again. Jongin hated the fact that Chanyeol saw him in such a state, and even though he was fine with it at first, the night he got back home, he couldn’t stop obsessing over it, feeling embarrassed he had marked Chanyeol up so much, feeling ashamed he had let himself get so carried away.

But Chanyeol had tasted _ so _good. Jongin remembers laying in his bed, licking his lips to the memory.

Now though, he finds himself across the dining table in Chanyeol’s cottage again, freshly showered and in Chanyeol’s scent. He had brought over a laundry basket of all Chanyeol’s clothes he’d collected in his time here—washed, of course—in the hopes that Chanyeol wearing them and washing them will make the clothes smell like him again. 

Jongin watches Chanyeol eat a large portion of barbecued beef and rice. He seems extra hungry today, and Jongin notes how Chanyeol’s mouth has grease around the edges. 

“Try some,” Chanyeol says, picking up the food with his fingers and reaching across the small distance to Jongin. He doesn’t even hesitate now, just opens his mouth and lets Chanyeol place the food on his tongue. Jongin chews it, letting the flavors set in. Since that fateful day of meeting the pack, Jongin’s let himself enjoy eating human food again, even if it really does not serve a purpose.

He had cereal this morning at home while Baekhyun drank from his glass of blood, eyeing him carefully. Jongin merely smiled and pretended the curious look in Baekhyun’s eye wasn’t there at all.

“It tastes good,” Jongin says, looking at Chanyeol. 

“Do you want some more?”

“Yes,” Jongin says. 

Chanyeol motions for Jongin to come to his side of the table so he doesn’t have to reach far. Jongin makes a motion to pull the chair out next to Chanyeol so he can sit, but Chanyeol stops him.

“No,” he says, “sit here.” Chanyeol pushes his chair back a little bit away from the table, and taps his lap with one hand. “Sit on my lap.”

“Mr. Park,” Jongin says, feeling embarrassed. They’re the only two here at the house. There’s no one to judge them. Jongin and he have shared a bed. Chanyeol’s fed him in front of his pack. And yet together, alone, it feels different once again.

“Sit on my lap,” Chanyeol says, eyes twinkling in mirth.

He takes a deep breath. “Okay,” Jongin complies. He sits himself on Chanyeol’s knee, wiggling his butt to get comfortable. Chanyeol wraps a hand around Jongin’s waist to steady him, pulling him flush against his chest. 

“This is good, right?” Chanyeol says, and brings his fingers up to Jongin’s mouth again, holding food in his hand. He accepts it into his mouth immediately.

“You’re so good for me, Jonginnie,” Chanyeol murmurs, rubbing his fingers against Jongin’s tummy. “You listen so well. I love watching you eat.”

Jongin feels a flush rise to his cheeks. He swallows the food in his mouth. “Don’t say that!” He whines.

“Why not?” Chanyeol says, and presses his fingers against Jongin’s mouth again. This time, Jongin’s tongue grazes against Chanyeol’s index finger. He gently nudges it in, pushing against Jongin’s mouth. Before he can react, the fingers are gone, and Jongin has half a mind to wonder if he even imagined the pressure at all.

Jongin chews slowly. “I’m embarrassed,” he confesses, after eating another bite.

“Don’t be,” Chanyeol says, “it’s just us two. And I would never say anything.”

Jongin turns towards Chanyeol and smiles. He opens his mouth, asking for more food with actions instead of words. Chanyeol smiles as he pushes rice between Jongin’s lips. 

They sit like that, Chanyeol feeding Jongin by hand, until all the food Chanyeol had laid out in front of him is gone. Chanyeol rubs Jongin’s tummy again. “Someone’s hungry,” he says.

Jongin feels Chanyeol’s fingers dig into the dips of his abdomen, he shudders at the contact. 

“Come on,” Chanyeol says, raising his leg up and bouncing Jongin. “Let me put these in the sink and then I can feed you for real.”

Jongin gets up off Chanyeol’s lap, stretching his legs, he makes his way into the living room. He sits on the couch and pulls a blanket over himself, before Chanyeol sidles up right next to him.

“I was thinking it was time we moved onto the next part of this engagement,” Chanyeol says, pulling Jongin closer.

“What do you mean?” Fear runs through Jongin’s body, at the idea of Chanyeol and he no longer meeting up anymore.

“We won’t be fighting anymore,” Chanyeol says, and before Jongin can protest he puts a finger to his lips. “Because I think that part of this… ‘therapy’ as you’ve dubbed it is done. You don’t wanna fight me anymore. The instinct is gone.”

Jongin wants to protest, say he’ll always need the thrill, but the truth of the matter is Chanyeol is right. The fighting was good in the beginning, back when he had all that pent up irritation boiling over in rage. Now it just feels fun, now it’s just part of their game.

“You call the shots, in the grand scheme of it, you know. And if you ever feel the need to use the basement, you know I’ll be right there next to you.”

Jongin nods, accepting. “What could be next, then?” He asks, looking at Chanyeol. 

Chanyeol pushes him down with one hand until Jongin is flat on his back. He hovers over Jongin’s body, his hips resting against Jongin’s. 

“Praise, of course,” Chanyeol says.

Jongin looks away.

“I’ve been watching you for months now, Jongin. You can’t hide it,” Chanyeol says, running his index finger down the swell of Jongin’s cheek. “You crave it. You respond to it. I know you desire it.”

Chanyeol lays his entire body weight on Jongin’s frame. “We aren’t gonna fight anymore,” he whispers into his ear, “because now when you come over, I’m gonna spend every moment worshipping you.”

“You don’t—ha,” Jongin whines when Chanyeol’s mouth tickles his ear, “you don’t need too.”

“But you want it, don’t you?”

Jongin doesn’t give him a response.

“You really want it, don’t you Jongin?”

“Mr. Park, please—”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, “Always with the ‘Mr. Park,’ huh?” But he doesn’t look mad, he just looks amused. His breath ghosts across the shell of Jongin’s ear. “I’ll get you to use my real name, one day. In due time.”

Jongin shivers. Chanyeol sits up, seated on Jongin’s thighs, as his hands roam all over Jongin’s body, fingers pressing into the skin of his hips, thumbs leaving impressions there. “You react so well to my touch,” Chanyeol murmurs, as his fingers flit over Jongin’s nipples, hands creeping underneath his shirt. Jongin gasps, arching up into Chanyeol’s arms, breathless. 

“It’s kind of amazing,” Chanyeol says, flicking his thumb over Jongin’s nipples again.

“S-stop, I’m sensitive,” Jongin says, covering his face with his hands.

Chanyeol laughs, and does it again, and Jongin squirms.

“You’re such an ass,” he bites out, and Chanyeol chuckles loudly, sound filling up the entire room. He pulls his hands away from Jongin’s nipples and moves them back to his hips, letting his thumbs rest against the bone there. 

“Your waist is so tiny,” Chanyeol says, gripping Jongin tighter, “If I squeeze you any tighter I bet my fingers will touch.”

Jongin’s body tingles under Chanyeol’s ministrations.

“It’s like one handful,” Chanyeol says off handedly, and Jongin groans before covering his head underneath his hands.

“I’m so embarrassed,” Jongin says, exasperated.

“You love praise,” Chanyeol says, and his tone is the same as if he was stating an inalienable fact. The sky is blue. The grass is green. Jongin loves being the center of someone’s attention. “You feed off it, and I’m giving it to you. Don’t be afraid.”

Jongin whines, and lets himself float away under Chanyeol’s grip. His hands roam all over his body, his chest, his neck, his face, and pull Jongin into a dreamlike trance, a well of safety. Where fighting gave him undeniable vestiges of adrenaline pumping through his system, Chanyeol’s gentle touch lulls him into a soft place, between wakefulness and sleep, where the only pinpoint of action Jongin can focus on is the way Chanyeol’s big hands feel against his body.

Soon enough, Jongin feels Chanyeol’s breath at his neck, plucking him out of his trance, grounding him back in reality. The palm that rests against the base of his spine burns.

“Jonginnie,” Chanyeol whispers, “time to go home.”

_ Home feels right here _, Jongin’s unfiltered mind thinks, and it’s enough to jolt him permanently awake. He must have some crazed look in his eye, since Chanyeol looks at him funny, but Jongin shakes his head to clear it, and hopes the smile he gives Chanyeol is all at once reassuring. 

“Home,” Jongin says, as Chanyeol gets off of him. He offers Jongin a hand and lifts him off the couch. Jongin goes willingly, before spinning a little bit into Chanyeol’s arms. 

“Come on,” Chanyeol says, and shoves his wrist under Jongin’s nose, “Eat a little before you go home. You know I’ll see you again soon.” Jongin complies easily, teeth biting into the flesh of Chanyeol’s arm automatically. He doesn’t have to drink as much as he did before that last time, back when he’d gone months without fresh blood. A few good sips of Chanyeol’s blood is enough to keep his hunger from overtaking him for the week, until of course he sees Chanyeol again. This is their system now, and Jongin refuses to acknowledge the delight the routine gives him.

On the scenic drive home, Jongin finds himself holding Chanyeol’s hand tightly in his grip, almost afraid to let go.

He blames it on Chanyeol’s blood, singing through his veins.

***

Time passes pretty easily, as Jongin looks more and more forward to the stable routine he has cultivated with Chanyeol by his side. He still feels embarrassed every time Chanyeol praises him, and the funny looks he gets from Junmyeon and Baekhyun when he comes home no longer register in his head.

“You kind of smell like wet dog,” Baekhyun said, that first night Chanyeol dropped him back home after he touched Jongin’s body all over.

Jongin was still floating on air, Baekhyun’s words didn’t even seem to properly register in his mind. 

“Seriously did Chanyeol slobber all over you?” Baekhyun made a semi-disgusted face and Jongin had broken out into a real, true, laugh. 

“Maybe he did,” Jongin joked, and seeing Baekhyun’s eyes go wide in disbelief is still one of the funniest expressions he’s worn to date.

“I don’t know if I needed to know that,” Baekhyun replied.

“And I don’t know if I’ve ever needed to see you and Junmyeon fucking on the couch, but here we are.” Jongin had said, and it was his first and only verbal acknowledgement of the relationship the two shared.

Baekhyun had looked even more mystified by that response, nearly rendered completely speechless. He had looked at Jongin for a long minute, mouth open, stuck on words, before mumbling a “Touche,” and going back to his comic book.

Jongin remembers curling in bed that night, texting Sehun the good news, before falling into a dreamless sleep. The thought makes him chuckle, since he’s yet to ever see that type of look grace Baekhyun’s face again. It’s comical almost, how Jongin’s verbal acknowledgement of their relationship is what got Baekhyun speechless in the first place. Jongin puts it out of his head for now, focussed on currently trying to convince Sehun to spill the beans on Alpha werewolfisms.

“I can’t just say it,” Sehun says over facetime video, face scrunched up in semi-annoyance. “It’s like a betrayal.”

“But it’s me,” Jongin whines, pouting.

“Don’t you dare pout at me, mister!” 

“But Sehunnie,” Jongin pouts.

Sehun rolls his eyes, and lifts a palm up to the camera, “Not going to work! I made a promise to Johnny.”

Now it’s Jongin’s turn to roll his eyes, “Of course, a promise to Johnny.”

“Yes,” Sehun says, and now he’s giddy—talking about his boyfriend always did that to him. Which reminds Jongin—

“Have you ever drank Johnny’s blood?” Jongin asks, without any preamble. He watches Sehun’s eyes bug out of his head before the phone falls from his grip, and Jongin gets a view of the ceiling.

“Keep your voice down!” Sehun whisper shouts, and Jongin rolls his eyes.

“I’m just asking!”

Sehun eyes Jongin for a moment before saying, “Yes… I have. But no one is supposed to know.”

“Why not?” Jongin asks, confused, “I feed from Ch—Mr. Park all the time.”

“You almost said his first name.”

“Not the point.”

Sehun laughs before looking at Jongin seriously. “We try not to advertise that I drink his blood,” Sehun says, and his voice becomes guarded, “the wolves here in the bay area… well there are some extremist groups—for both wolves and vampires. It’s one thing for us to be dating, as most of the community here knows… it’s something different if they knew I was drinking from him.”

“But why? I mean… I’ve heard the rumors of wolf blood being magic but I don’t put any stock in it, you know. Blood is blood.”

Sehun rolls his eyes, “Just keep that fact to yourself, maybe? The rumors about werewolf blood being magic… are true,” Sehun says carefully, “But it’s not every werewolf. It’s only _ some. _ And I’ll be damned if any of the vampires here knew that Johnny was one of ‘ _ that some _.’”

Jongin’s eyebrows furrow. “What… I don’t think I understand what you’re saying.”

Sehun looks at Jongin like he’s a child, and suddenly Jongin feels like he _ is. _“You cannot repeat this,” Sehun starts, “and it’s a good thing Johnny isn’t home right now.” He sighs.

What could be so bad? Jongin wonders, that even Sehun feels compelled to keep it so guarded. What could possibly— 

“One sip of Johnny’s blood,” Sehun’s voice cuts through Jongin’s head, “and I can walk in the sun.”

Jongin’s eyes feel like they’re going to fall out of his head. This time, it’s he who drops his phone.

“I’m—I’m sorry what?”

“How do you think I survived the flight from Korea to San Francisco so easily?”

“You told me you were taking all these weird flights—to ensure you only arrived in places at night.”

“I lied,” Sehun says and looks away. “I lie a lot you know, if it’s to protect him.”

“I’m realizing that now,” Jongin says, mind still reeling.

“We discovered it by accident,” Sehun says, “one night, we were fooling around, and I bit him, and drank and he just. He let me? And the next morning, he forgot I was in the bed, he pulled open the curtains and—” Sehun cuts himself off. Jongin looks at his friend, sees the faraway glance in his eyes. “My god, we both thought I was going to die.”

“But you didn’t,” Jongin states the obvious.

“I’m still kicking,” Sehun smirks. “Anyways,” he says, shaking his head, “we put two and two together and realized… Johnny’s special. He’s very special. Especially to _ me _.”

“Give me a minute,” Jongin says, “I’m trying to catch up.”

“Take your time,” Sehun snorts.

Jongin rolls his eyes. He feels like he’s missed so much, like he hasn’t properly absorbed a single thought in years. All at once he feels really _ bad, _ like he somehow let Sehun shoulder all of this because he couldn’t get his head out of his ass and be a _ friend _. 

“I’m sorry,” Jongin blurts out.

“What for?”

“For letting you go through this alone.”

“I chose to do it alone.”

“But you shouldn’t have had too.”

Sehun sighs, “When I left you and Junmyeon… I knew what I was doing, okay? I knew everything I was getting myself into. I didn’t wanna involve you guys.”

“But we’re like brothers… he’s your sire, too… I should have been there for you.”

“You’re here now, right?” Sehun smiles, and Jongin smiles back.

“Yes,” Jongin says, absolutely, “I’m here now.”

“That’s all that matters to me.”

Jongin and Sehun talk for a bit more, before Sehun senses Johnny’s presence back in their home. 

“If anyone knew he could give vampires the gift of walking in the sun, Johnny would be locked up, chained, and held hostage forever.”

“I will never tell anyone,” Jongin promises, “I will never tell a soul.”

“Only Chanyeol knows what his blood can do.”

“Of course he knows,” Jongin mutters, and Sehun laughs at the expression Jongin’s face makes. 

“I have to go now, I’ll talk to you later,” Sehun says, “Johnny’s home!”

“Okay, okay,” Jongin says, “tell your boyfriend I said ‘hello.’”

Sehun smiles as he says “I will!” before ending the call.

***

Sometime later in the week, Jongin finds himself sitting at the kitchen table, idley flipping through the newspaper. Junmyeon is out at work at the online campus and Baekhyun sits across from Jongin, comic book in one hand and eye flitting over to Jongin’s form every so often.

Jongin settles on the newspaper crossword, folding the paper back as he starts to fill in the answers one by one. This one’s ranked with medium difficulty, so he thinks he might be able to breeze through it pretty quickly. After writing in about three answers, Jongin glances up at Baekhyun, who’s eyes dart back down to his comic book like he’s been caught staring. Jongin studies the blush on Baekhyun’s cheeks, the way he knows he’s been caught. Baekhyun looks like he’s dying to say something, and Jongin is almost revelling in the uneasy way Baekhyun seems to move around him these days. It feels opposite almost, to the way Jongin spent so much time moving around Baekhyun, orbiting the empty spaces he and Junmyeon occupied together. 

“If you’ve got something to say, Baekhyun, spit it out.” Jongin blurts out loud, eyes never moving from Baekhyun’s face. Baekhyun glances up and then looks away, gaze ashamed at being caught.

“It’s no-nothing,” Baekhyun says, tripping over his words, and Jongin’s never known him to be so nervous around him before.

“Why’re you acting like this?” Jongin asks, genuinely confused. He knows he’s pretty much been M.I.A. for a while now, caught up in his own existence for once and not anyone else’s.

Baekhyun sniffs the air, “I don’t think you realize how terrifying you smell,” he says slowly.

“Are you saying I stink?”

“No,” Baekhyun says, “that’s not it. You just smell… scary. Is that part of your… thing with Chanyeol?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Jongin says honestly.

“You smell strongly of him,” Baekhyun scrunches his nose, “very strongly.”

Jongin feels a heat rush up to his cheeks at Baekhyun’s words. He notices Baekhyun’s eyes slowly drift back down to his comic book, but still flick up once more, almost automatically, to Jongin’s face.

“That isn’t what you wanted to talk to me about though, is it, Baekhyun?”

Baekhyun sighs and closes his book. “No, it isn’t,” he says. He places his palms face down on the table. 

“Is it something with Junmyeon?”

Baekhyun stays silent.

Jongin feels his stomach plummet.

“Well? What is it, then?” Jongin asks, getting slightly irritated. Baekhyun’s been casting him these suspicious, sidelong glances for a while now, ever since that first day he came home and Baekhyun said he smelled like a wet dog. Jongin’s done his best to put it out of his mind for now, but this is well beyond just a casual glance and falling into the territory of annoying stare. He caps his pen and looks at Baekhyun, who’s avoiding his gaze.

“What is it?” Jongin demands, crossing his arms in front of his body, defensively.

Baekhyun sighs once more, before getting out of his chair across from Jongin and moving to the one right next to him. Baekhyun rests a hand on Jongin’s shoulder, and Jongin flinches under his grip.

“We used to be such good friends,” Baekhyun starts, with a soft chuckle. “Whatever happened to us?”

“I don’t know,” Jongin says tightly.

“I bet you do know,” Baekhyun counters. “Look at me.”

Jongin turns his body to face Baekhyun, who’s currently wearing a sad expression on his face. “We were all such great friends before… but this… this chasm that opened up between us… it seems irreversible sometimes.”

Baekhyun sighs, moving his hand from Jongin’s shoulder, he looks at the fridge, rests his hands on his lap. 

“I’m glad you’re getting better, Jongin,” Baekhyun says, “mentally, physically, however you wanna categorize it. I know you don’t want me—or Junmyeon—to pry, but I’m glad you’re healing.”

Jongin grunts in acknowledgement, eyes still locked on Baekhyun’s cheek. He turns back to Jongin slowly, face heavy but eyes determined. 

“I know you hated me, for a long while, maybe you still do,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head. He places his hands on Jongin’s shoulders, trapping him down. He doesn’t move his gaze where he has it locked with Jongin’s.

“You have to know, I love Junmyeon. I love him so much,” Baekhyun says, words falling out of his mouth, and Jongin thinks Baekhyun’s a genius, pinning him in place so he can’t move. 

“Is there a point to this?” Jongin asks, irritated. He doesn’t need the obvious stated back at him. He doesn’t need the reminder of what he lives with everyday.

“I knew you loved him,” Baekhyun says, tone neutral. “I knew you loved Junmyeon and yet I swooped in anyway.”

“Wha—”

Baekhyun moves his hands from Jongin’s shoulders, to his wrists, squeezing them tightly.

“Let go of me!” Jongin shouts, trying to break free, but Baekhyun was a blackbelt in hapkido before he was turned into a vampire, and his strength is immeasurable against Jongin’s grip. 

“You need to understand,” Baekhyun repeats, “and it’s been a long time coming.”

“What is there to understand?” Jongin fires back, “you won him, okay? You fucking got him, alright? What does this conversation serve except to make me fucking miserable?”

“I’m trying to prevent you from repeating this stupid cycle of yours, goddamn it Kim Jongin stop fighting with me!” Baekhyun’s voice is hoarse from shouting.

“I’m not sorry I got Junmyeon first. I’m _ not _ sorry he’s my husband! Of course I feel bad… I knew you loved him. But it is what it is... I acted on my feelings, though. Something you _ couldn’t _do.”

Jongin feels tears welling up in his eyes now, feels himself falling apart in front of Baekhyun, lower lip trembling.

“You won’t admit it to yourself, but Chanyeol means more to you than just as your fucking therapist. You don’t hang out with me or Junmyeon anymore—you haven’t for years, but seeing you these last couple months? Seeing you become alive again. I _ missed _ it, you know. I fucking missed _ you _.”

“No you don’t,” Jongin spits out, “no you don’t even care.”

“You’ve been living inside this glass bubble in your head for so long, Jongin, beating yourself up over things you can’t control. I got Junmyeon, so what? You had a hundred chances before me and you never took them. You sat on the sidelines and watched him for decades. For centuries. I knew I loved him… and so I told him. It was that easy.”

“It’s not easy,” Jongin says, voice wobbly.

“I don’t want you to lose what you have with Chanyeol,” Baekhyun bites out, “and if you don’t move fast enough, another Baekhyun might just swoop in and steal him from your hands. What will you do then, Jongin?”

“If this is your idea of a pep talk, you seriously need a refresher course.”

Baekhyun chuckles at that, his grip on Jongin’s wrists loosening. 

“Do you think you were the only person who could love him?”

Jongin stays silent.

“Junmyeon is… my whole world. I never would have let the relationship get in the way of us. I’m sorry, Jongin. I knew you loved him but I loved him, too. There was no point in me killing myself over years of repressed desire, when I could simply… tell him I wanted him. And have him.”

Jongin shakes his head. “You make it sound so easy… to—to tell someone you love them.”

“Because it is.”

“Maybe for you.”

“It could be for you, too, Jongin. You just have to not be a fucking coward.” Baekhyun lets go of his wrists, gets up from his chair, and dusts the imaginary dirt off his pants. 

“I want us to be friends again,” Baekhyun continues, “if that means I have to fight you myself every step of the goddamn way until it happens—so be it. But I’m tired of this family being broken like this. I miss Sehunnie too, you know. Look outside the four walls of your head for once, Jongin. I think three decades has been me giving you ‘enough time.’” Baekhyun goes back to his seat at the other side of the table, picking up his comic book and resuming his story, as if the last twenty minutes did not happen. Jongin sits there, stone faced, brain trying to play catch up to the deluge of information he just received.

“By the way,” Baekhyun says, and Jongin slowly turns around in his chair to face him, “Thirty-seven down on the crossword is ‘gemini.’ Mutable air sign? That’s easy.”

“Right,” Jongin says, and writes the answer down on autopilot.

“It’s Junmyeon’s star sign.”

“Of course it is.”

***

“Sehun,” Jongin says, on the phone, later that day, in the middle of the night. 

“Yes, dear?” Sehun replies, face amused, while Jongin has the most concerned, pinched look on his face. 

“Please… please be honest with me.” 

Sehun seems to sense Jongin’s serious tone, and switches himself immediately. “What’s up, Jonginnie?”

“Did you… did you ever love Junmyeon?”

Sehun sighs, almost like he knew this was coming. He gets this wistful look in his eyes as a soft laugh escaped his lips. 

“Who didn’t love him, I think, is the more appropriate question.”

“What do you mean?” Jongin asks.

“Don’t play dumb with me, doofus, I know. We all knew.” 

Jongin doesn’t say anything.

“I loved him, of course I did,” Sehun chuckles to himself, but not unkindly. “I think at some point I just realized I couldn’t hold onto that sliver of hope any more. I had to let him go.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“I had Johnny, I had other things to occupy myself with.”

“Are you saying I’m a loner?”

“I would never… say it in that way,” Sehun replies.

Jongin snorts, “I get it, you know. Baekhyun told me as much.”

“Baekhyun talked to you? About Junmyeon?”

“There was a lot going on… I’m still processing… things. But he knew about my feelings. Told me it didn’t matter in the end. He loved Junmyeon, too.”

“That’s kinda funny, in a way…”

“He’s the only one who had the balls to say something to Jun.”

“There’s more to it than that, I think,” Sehun intones, and his voice becomes thoughtful. “Remember Junmyeon turned the both of us. We just kinda found Baekhyun a century and a half or whatever back.”

Jongin shrugs. “I can’t do anything about it, anyway.”

“Did you want too?”

Jongin thinks for a moment. “No,” he says truthfully, “I don’t want too.”

“I think it’s just a fact of our lives,” Sehun continues, “we all loved Junmyeon at one point. Whether it was good or bad for us.”

“I see,” Jongin says, mind still reeling from his conversation with Baekhyun earlier. “I guess I’m just slowly trying to make sense of everything. I suddenly feel like I’ve been missing a lot.”

“Playing catch up,” Sehun laughs, “it’s about time.”

“I’m getting there,” Jongin whines, pouting at Sehun’s face on the screen.

Sehun shakes his head fondly, “Good ol’ Jonginnie,” he replies, “never change.”

“Just the bad parts,” Jongin corrects, “that’s all I wanna fix.”

“I don’t think you have any bad parts,” Sehun shrugs, “just a few rough edges.”

Jongin feels a blush rise to his cheeks, and he looks away from Sehun’s gaze.

“I’m serious, you know!” Sehun repeats, and that outburst makes Jongin laugh.

They stay silent for a little while, before Jongin lets out a yawn. “I’ve gotta get some sleep,” he says, “I see Mr. Park later today.”

“Oh yes,” Sehun smirks, “get your rest. You’re gonna need it.”

“Shut up!” Jongin replies, and ends the call on Sehun’s laugh.

Jongin puts his phone on the nightstand, before pulling the covers up over his body. He thinks about the last couple hours, and mentally feels the exhaustion start to set in. Baekhyun knew about his feelings, and it didn’t bother him, didn’t stop him from going after what he wanted. Jongin doesn’t know whether to respect Baekhyun for chasing after his desire, or to beat him to shit for throwing it in his face. And Sehun, Sehun loved Junmyeon, too. Jongin can almost see that, in a way, playing out in his head. How doting Junmyeon was with Sehun, up to the very moment he left. It’s a strange feeling that takes over Jongin’s chest now, confusion being the most apparent. He sighs, wistful, and thinking about everything and nothing. Today’s been a day of realizations, it seems, and Baekhyun has forced him out of his comfort zone more than anything else ever has.

And yet, none of that matters, right now, because Jongin knows he has something to look forward too. 

So he pushes Baekhyun out of his head, forgets about his words for the time being, and focuses on the fact that he will see Chanyeol again in just a couple of hours. Chanyeol will touch him all over again, will whisper soft things in his ear, and tell him how beautiful he is to his face. Chanyeol will caress his hips, his cheeks, will rub his scent all over Jongin’s neck. 

Chanyeol will give himself and ask for nothing in return. He will give Jongin his arm and tell him to drink, he will hold Jongin to his chest and tell him to stop being so afraid. Chanyeol will warm him from the inside out, will remind Jongin what it feels like to be wanted, what it feels like to be the center of someone’s world. 

The memory of Chanyeol’s touch against his body, sends shivers down Jongin’s spine, body alight with energy once more. He closes his eyes, as he sneaks a hold down his chest, and into his sleep shorts. He holds his cock, hard, in his hand. It’s the one thing they’ve always avoided, acknowledging the physical reaction that the fighting, the blood drinking, and now the praise does to Jongin’s body. Jongin will willfully ignore his boner in front of Chanyeol, will pretend he’s not hard in the clothes Chanyeol gives him if it means Chanyeol will keep touching him all the same. 

But here, in the safety and privacy of his own room, no one has to know what Jongin does behind closed doors. 

It’s easy from there, to take himself in his hand, and slowly jerk himself off to the memories of Chanyeol. He has a whole bank filled with fantasies, a whole lottery of emotions to let repossess him. Chanyeol holding him against the wall, Chanyeol’s fingers digging into the skin of Jongin’s neck, his air supply slowly turning off. The feel of Chanyeol’s fingers against the base of his spine, his hot breath ghosting across Jongin’s neck. 

Jongin remembers the feeling of his teeth piercing Chanyeol’s skin, his blood pooling in Jongin’s mouth. He picks up his pace, body arching into his own touch. The precum slides down around his cock, making the drag easier. He whimpers, as he strokes himself, thinking about Chanyeol’s big hands, thinking about him calling Jongin’s waist _ so tiny. _

Jongin feels insane at the memory, and pinches his nipples with his other hand. His eyes are screwed shut, as his back arches on the bed. He moves his wrist up and down his length faster, feels his breath catch on every upstroke. 

“Ugh,” Jongin whines, gritting his teeth. He feels so close, so close to finishing. He thinks about Chanyeol’s deep voice, body feeling like a live wire. 

“Ch-chanyeol, please,” he cries out, and comes to the memory of Chanyeol saying _ You’re so good for me, aren’t you? _

Jongin throws the covers off his body, chest heaving. He brings his cum covered hand up from out of his shorts and to his mouth, examines his fingers, before he licks each of them clean. It should be gross he thinks, as he flicks his nipple with his hand. But for some reason, it turns him on even more. Jongin kicks his underwear down and strokes himself one more time, crying out from over sensitivity. He thinks about Chanyeol, imagines him hovering over him, in his space, body pressing Jongin into the mattress, and he comes one more time, his cock letting out just a few spurts of cum that cover his fingers one more time. Jongin feels dizzy almost, and presses the cum into his skin, imagining the fingers on his abdomen are Chanyeol’s. Imagining that it’s him ruining Jongin like this instead. 

He gets up from his bed with a groan, and reaches for the baby wipes he keeps in the bedside drawer. Jongin licks his hand clean one more time, but wipes up the mess that’s almost dried on his stomach. 

He falls asleep shortly after, thinking about being Chanyeol’s good boy, and pretending he didn’t call him out by his first name. 

***

“He knew everything,” Jongin says, from where he’s curled up on Chanyeol’s couch. He’s in his own clothes this time, a soft white cotton t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Jongin pulls his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs. “He knew… everything… everything and I just…” his voice trails off.

Chanyeol sits down next to him on the couch, pizza slices balanced on a plate in his hand. He eyes him carefully, measuring his words.

“It’s been decades,” Jongin continues on, “I feel like a fucking idiot.”

“You’re not,” Chanyeol says, placing the plate of food on top of the coffee table in front of him. “Your feelings aren’t wrong.”

“But Baekhyun _ knew. _ I should have been more careful, I-I should have been better at hiding it.” Jongin rests his forehead against his knees, making himself smaller. He woke up this evening at Chanyeol’s knocking on the door, because Jongin had been asleep through all his phone calls. In fact, Chanyeol had walked all the way into Jongin’s room and woken him up with a soft push against his shoulder. In Jongin’s sleep addled mind, he still thought he was dreaming as he blinked up at Chanyeol’s face—until the reality of the moment caught up to him, and he remembered all too easily what he _ had _been doing before he passed out. Jongin hoped the baby wipes were enough to cover up any lingering cum smell he might still have on him, and well, even if it didn’t, at least he’s grateful Chanyeol can’t read his mind.

Jongin had kept silent the entire car ride, brain mulling over Baekhyun’s words, lost deep in thought at what Sehun relayed over the phone. Chanyeol had eyed him curiously during the car ride, but had dutifully remained silent as well, bopping along to the soft noise of the radio, letting Jongin sort through his brain himself. 

Jongin takes a deep breath, and looks up from his knees, staring at Chanyeol, who’s now sitting sideways on the couch to face him. 

“He-He knew I had feelings for Junmyeon, but he had feelings for him too. Hell, even Sehun did,” Jongin chuckles to himself, but the sound is hollow. “Have I always been this blind?”

“You have other things on your mind,” Chanyeol says neutrally.

“Or maybe I’m just a selfish dick,” Jongin mutters.

“There’s nothing wrong with being selfish every once in a while.”

Jongin looks up and Chanyeol, eyes feeling heavy. Chanyeol opens his arms wide, without saying anything, as Jongin moves himself into Chanyeol’s embrace. Jongin stretches himself out across the couch, back resting against Chanyeol’s chest. Chanyeol wraps his arms around Jongin’s body, and Jongin finds his safety there.

“I feel embarrassed,” Jongin notes softly, as it pains him to admit it. “I am so fucking embarrassed that Baekhyun knew… but. But mostly I’m angry at myself. I was so obvious. I thought I was doing a good job at hiding it. I thought I… I didn’t know what I thought. I can’t believe Baekhyun just went up to Junmyeon and told him he loved him.”

“It’s not that difficult to tell someone you love them,” Chanyeol says, his left hand rubbing circles on Jongin’s stomach, in a comforting gesture. 

“It’s terrifying for me,” Jongin says, “I live forever. I’d have to live with that rejection forever, too.”

Chanyeol hums in acknowledgement, and his hands doesn’t stop the movement across Jongin’s body.

“Come on,” he says, after a companionable silence, “let’s go to the bedroom, it’s time for me to praise you.” Chanyeol snorts right after his words, before swiftly getting up, Jongin cradled in his arms.

“I can walk you know!” Jongin says, from where Chanyeol holds him. 

Chanyeol raises his eyebrow, “Oh, I’m sure you can. But you much rather prefer me carrying you like this, don’t you?”

Jongin says nothing.

“It’s okay to need this,” Chanyeol says softly, as he pushes his bedroom door open with his foot, “it’s okay to want to be treated like this.” 

Jongin buries his face against Chanyeol’s chest, saying nothing. Chanyeol lays him down on the bed gently hovering over Jongin’s body. Jongin’s mind flashes to the memories of early this morning, to the way this exact visage of Chanyeol had him arching off his bed, cum covering his lithe fingers. Jongin feels his dick twitch in his pants, and ignores it completely.

Chanyeol takes his hands and pushes them under Jongin’s shirt, the cold of his fingertips digging into the soft skin. 

“Ah-ah,” Jongin cries out, “your hands are so damn cold.”

“Feels good, right?” Chanyeol laughs.

“I can’t stand you,” Jongin pouts. Chanyeol ignores him and he moves his hands up and down Jongin’s body, paying careful attention to the sounds Jongin lets out unconsciously. 

“I thought,” Chanyeol says, as his thumbs dig into Jongin’s hips, “that I would finally tell you what it means to be an Alpha werewolf.”

Jongin freezes against the bed. “Really?” he asks.

“You get better and better,” Chanyeol says, “you don’t seem to be as haywire as before, you feel… more free. I can sense it,” he squeezes Jongin’s hips, “I can _ feel _it.”

Chanyeol sits on top of Jongin’s hips, right near his hardening dick, and he lowers himself closer to Jongin’s face. His hot breath ghosts across Jongin’s skin, and Jongin can almost feel like there’s goosebumps rising up across him. Chanyeol’s mouth tickles against Jongin’s ear, and unthinkingly, Jongin stretches his neck out to the side, making room for Chanyeol.

Immediately, Chanyeol’s mouth is gone. “Don’t do that,” he says, and Jongin looks up at him.

“What-what happened?”

“Don’t,” Chanyeol says, and it seems like the words come to him with difficulty, “don’t bare your neck at me.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin says immediately, “I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re okay, Jonginnie,” Chanyeol says, and runs a finger across Jongin’s abdomen to let him know he’s not truly upset. “Just remember what I am.”

“An Alpha,” Jongin replies.

“A werewolf,” Chanyeol corrects, and then rolls off of Jongin to lay down next to him. Jongin wants to whine at the loss, but Chanyeol faces him, and pulls Jongin’s body closer to him.

“An Alpha,” Chanyeol starts, cradling Jongin’s face in one hand, “is the leader of the pack. They’re the one in charge, the one everyone else listens too. Respect for the pack Alpha goes a long way.”

Jongin nods, as Chanyeol talks, though he wonders why Chanyeol is telling him all of these things—things that everyone already knows about Alpha wolves anyway.

“They’re territorial, they’re brash, they’re _ cunning _. Alpha werewolves leave no mercy. But are fiercely protective of those who are under their care.”

Chanyeol rubs his thumb against the apple of Jongin’s cheek. He licks his lips, and Jongin’s eyes track the movement swiftly.

“I owe Junmyeon a favor,” Chanyeol continues, “because he saved one of mine from certain death. It’s only right I repaid him in kind.”

Jongin stares at Chanyeol’s face, as the gears turn in his head. He thinks about Chanyeol’s words, and it almost seems laughable, of course, this is the only conclusion. How of course, Jongin’s world could be so limitless, but also so terribly, terribly small.

“Johnny, isn’t it?” Jongin says, and watches the way Chanyeol tenses up at the mention of his werewolf’s name.

“It’s okay,” Jongin continues, “I know what he can do.”

“His blood would be worth… millions to vampires. A goldmine.” Chanyeol looks away from Jongin’s face, rolling onto his back. He takes Jongin with him, who settles on Chanyeol’s chest easily.

“I’m just one Alpha pack leader among many. Who knows what another Alpha would have done with someone like Johnny, someone who could give vampires the ability to walk in the sun? Some Alphas… they _ can _ be cruel. They can be every bad thing people say about them. But most of us—Alphas are _ healers _, we swear an oath. Almost like a doctor,” Chanyeol snorts. He runs his fingers through Jongin’s soft hair. Jongin focusses on Chanyeol’s breathing, letting him wash over him.

“Junmyeon is right about one thing,” Chanyeol continues, “vampires respect him. Vampires _ know _ him. I don’t know if you’re aware… but the Council of vampires fear him. When someone in San Francisco caught Sehun walking in the daylight with a werewolf, questions were raised. Suspicions were put out there. I was not going to _ risk _Johnny’s life because of who he decided to make a home with.”

“Jun-Junmyeon knew? About… about Sehun being with a… a wolf?”

“Junmyeon knows a lot more than he lets on,” Chanyeol states, “and he’s a lot kinder than you give him credit for.”

Jongin shrinks at the reply, remembers Chanyeol telling him not to be so harsh to Junmyeon… remembers…

Chanyeol starts again, “All Junmyeon had to do was simply snap his fingers, and the problem with the vampires was _ gone _. All he had to do was tell the Council there was no such issue to begin with, and it disappeared before it started.” 

“This is why I owe him a favor,” Chanyeol sighs, “he saved one of mine,” Chanyeol readjusts their bodies so that he’s facing Jongin again, able to look deeply in his eyes. “So I’m saving one of his.”

Jongin blinks at that. _ I’m saving one of his _.

“But,” Chanyeol chuckles, “I don’t really think you needed saving all that much,” he caresses Jongin’s cheek again, rubbing his thumb over his face, softly touching Jongin’s nose. “You just needed a little extra care, that’s all.” 

Jongin feels an imaginary heat rise to his cheeks, and looks away from Chanyeol very shyly. 

“Now come here,” Chanyeol says, patting Jongin on the back, the seriousness of the moment broken. “Come here and eat,” he wiggles his eyebrows, which makes Jongin want to both blush and hit him at the same time. “I know you’re hungry.”

Chanyeol pulls Jongin on top of him gently, offering his arm once again. Jongin eyes Chanyeol’s neck carefully, remembering Chanyeol’s reaction from earlier, remembering how it felt sinking his teeth into a werewolf’s neck in the first place.

Jongin bites down on Chanyeol’s arm, letting his warm blood fill his mouth, letting his hunger wash away like the tide.

***

It’s later, after Jongin’s sated and back home, when he walks into the house and sees Junmyeon sitting at the kitchen table, a mess of papers in front of him. 

Jongin makes some noise, to let himself be known, and doesn’t miss the way Junmyeon startles only a little, eyes looking up from the table to watch Jongin carefully. He’s wearing a sweater vest, and looks every bit the college professor he’s pretending to be.

“How was it?” Junmyeon asks gently, and Jongin stares at him for a long time, looking at Junmyeon differently. He can’t help but see him in a new light, can’t help but notice all the ways Junmyeon looks different—and all the ways he has not changed. The back end of the pen in his hand is chewed, the way Junmyeon does when he’s nervous, and his left hand taps against the table, anxious.

Jongin realizes Junmyeon is scared for his reply. He wonders when he let it get this bad, he wonders what decade they both went their separate ways. Jongin stares at Junmyeon, but finds his lips forming a smile, gracing across his features. Junmyeon seems taken aback by that reaction, obviously expecting the silent treatment once more.

“It was good,” Jongin says, “Mr. Park makes me feel really good,” he adds on, quietly.

A genuine smile is what Jongin gets in return, and he wonders how long he had the wool over his eyes. Junmyeon knew about Sehun and Johnny, and didn’t say anything. Junmyeon knew about… about what Johnny could _ do, _and didn’t say anything. Junmyeon could have kept Johnny to himself, could have taken Johnny away, Junmyeon could have walked in the daylight—

And yet all he does is grade papers. 

Jongin smiles again, a small one, mostly for himself. He walks closer to where Junmyeon is at, eyes carefully scanning the papers strewn across the table.

“Intro to… Freshman Literature?” Jongin asks.

“Gothic, specifically.”

“What are they writing about?”

“Dracula,” Junmyeon snorts, cringing only slightly.

“Don’t tell me you chose this book specifically—”

“It’s not _ my _ fault that it’s considered a classic novel! How was I supposed to know Bram was going to base the damn titular character after _ me _?”

“Oh shut up,” Jongin says, but there’s no bite, “don’t act like you don’t enjoy it—that you don’t get a rush of excitement out of being written about like this.”

Junmyeon snorts, raising both his hands up in a placating gesture, “Alright, alright, you got me. Although many aspects are _ greatly _ exaggerated.”

Jongin rolls his eyes, “I’ll never forgive him, for making me one of the _ sisters _. I was just type casted into some imaginable Gothic vampire harem,” Jongin huffs. “And garlic, of all things, being a way to keep vampires at bay, Bram could’ve thought of something else.”

“It’s because of my allergy!”

Jongin and Junmyeon look at each other, before sharing a loud laugh. It feels carefree and genuine, something Jongin thinks he and Junmyeon have not shared in such a long time. They make eye contact as Jongin wipes the tears from his eyes, and suddenly Jongin has an idea of what to do.

He pulls out a chair at the table, and sits down, picking up one of the various essays from his students that Junmyeon printed out. 

“Would you like some help grading? It’ll definitely go by faster with another set of hands… and I still have that godforsaken book memorized because of you anyway.”

“I’d like that very, very much.” The smile Junmyeon offers him, as he passes Jongin a pen, is a genuine one.

***

Jongin lets the weeks pass by him in a flurry, days of routine blurring together happily. He spends his time with Chanyeol, talks to Baekhyun, doesn’t avoid Junmyeon, laughs with Sehun on facetime, and the worries of the last several months seem to ease and settle like distant memories. Before Jongin can realize it, it’s the beginning of November, and the snow blankets the outside in white. Jongin wears the big stuffy sweaters mostly for show, because he knows if he walked out in just basketball shorts everyone would side eye him judgingly. 

“Christmas is next MONTH!!!!!!!!” Baekhyun shouts at an impossible decibel, as he throws tinsel all over the house. It took many nights of convincing to even get Junmyeon to agree to put up a Christmas tree in the house, but after, what Jongin assumes was many nights of Baekhyun’s very special brand of persuasiveness, Junmyeon relented—they now have a ridiculous tree in the middle of their living room, real and everything. The pine scent gets to Jongin’s nose but he takes it in stride, watching as Baekhyun fumbles with the garland and the ornaments that are all over the floor.

“Come here and help me you jackass,” Baekhyun says, and Jongin raises an eyebrow in his direction. It’s heartwarming to Jongin, how so much has changed. Baekhyun wasn’t lying when he said he’d fight Jongin tooth and nail to be friends again, and after a first few awkward stumbles around each other—mostly involving how Baekhyun is awful and a battering ram—it feels more or less like old times again. Jongin’s also happy now, for the improvement in himself too, hooking at Baekhyun doesn’t set off a firepit of jealousy in his gut, how watching he and Junmyeon curl their fingers around each other doesn’t make him want to rage. Baekhyun’s gotten bolder with their more tender displays of public affection, and when Jongin stares at their intertwined hands, all he feels is warmth in his chest.

“I think I enjoy watching you suffer a lot more,” he snorts in reply.

“Dick.”

“Bitch.”

“No fighting,” Junmyeon says swiftly, picking up the garland from the floor and trying to wrap it around the tree, which is just as bad as Baekhyun’s attempt, considering the tree towers over Junmyeon so much. 

Jongin watches Junmyeon hop like a rabbit to swing the garland around the highest part of the tree, hears him cursing under his breath. “Why the fuck did I let you convince me to get a fucking tree this big? None of us can reach this fucking thing!”

Jongin laughs at that, before dragging a chair from the dining table, standing on it, and pulling the garland into place at the top. “We all have degrees… and yet neither of you thought to use the chair?”

“Shut up,” Junmyeon and Baekhyun reply in unison, and all Jongin can do is laugh as he steps off the chair.

It’s weird being home on a Friday night, instead of at Chanyeol’s like he usually is, but Chanyeol had told him earlier this week that there was some important Alpha werewolf team bonding meeting or whatever and that he’d be gone for two weeks. _ It’s not Alpha werewolf team bonding, _Chanyeol had said, snorting, while on the phone, but Jongin merely laughed at the sound of his voice, before promising he’d be on his best behavior.

So now Jongin finds himself at home instead, watching Junmyeon and Baekhyun do their thing, helping them decorate a tree. It all feels too surreal almost, too much like a dream. Any time before this would have left Jongin desperately itching to sink his teeth into someone’s neck and drain them completely. Any time before this would have left a trail of human bodies in its wake.

But all Jongin can think of is Chanyeol—his smile, his warmth, his scent—

His blood.

All he can think of is counting down the days until Chanyeol comes home, until Chanyeol pulls him into his arms again, bathes him in his scent.

Jongin watches the way Baekhyun’s cheeks puff out when he looks at Junmyeon. Holding a fake bundle of mistletoe in his hand. Baekhyun steals a kiss or two, as many as Junmyeon will let him, and the sight no longer makes Jongin want to cry.

Jongin thinks about the homemade bags of blood Chanyeol made for him, hoping it will be enough to last his absence. Jongin remembers Chanyeol passing him the cooler, filled with four neatly packaged blood bags, reassuring Jongin that the blood was his own, telling Jongin that he will see him when he comes back. The memory still makes Jongin feel warm. He walks slowly out of the living room and into the kitchen, feeling himself getting a little hungry at the thought of Chanyeol’s blood. Jongin gets one of the bags out of the freezer, running it under warm water to defrost it just a little bit. He rips the top of the bag off and moves to drink it straight from the bag, before stopping halfway to his mouth. He opens the cupboard and pulls out a plastic cup, pouring blood into the tall glass. It isn’t like Baekhyun’s wine glass by any means, but as Jongin carefully sips from the plastic cup, looking at his friends who now have somehow gotten the tinsel wrapped and tangled around themselves, he can’t help but smile, and think everything will be okay. 

***

Now that Chanyeol’s occupied with his werewolf ceremony, Jongin finds himself teetering just on the edge of restlessness. It’s been a few days since, and the Christmas tree decorates their living room in all it’s patchwork glory. Jongin finds himself talking to Sehun, and now Johnny as well, much more frequently, and gaming with random strangers on his World of Warcraft server. He even gets Baekhyun to try and teach him how to play pubg, though Jongin finds himself dying within the first couple of minutes every single time. Baekhyun will pat him on the back and laugh, offering not a single shred of mercy. 

Jongin drinks another one of Chanyeol’s blood bags for comfort, even though his teeth ache, craving to feed from the source. Jongin texts Chanyeol shyly, asking him how he’s doing, how his werewolf conference is going. Chanyeol ends up calling him instead of replying to Jongin’s texts and Jongin eagerly answers the phone. 

“For starters,” Chanyeol says, no preamble, “it is not a werewolf ceremony.” 

“So you’re not singing ‘kumbaya’ around a campfire? I’m shocked and disappointed.” 

“You’re a little shit aren’t you?” Chanyeol hums, but Jongin can almost imagine the smile gracing his face. 

“I miss you,” Jongin blurts out at once, and then audibly shuts his mouth. _ Oh god, _ he thinks, _ I really just admitted that _.

Chanyeol doesn’t even snicker. Instead, he hums softly, and says, “I miss you, too.”

Jongin sighs in relief, before launching into a recap of his life the last few days. Chanyeol listens intently, makes noises at all the appropriate times, laughs when Jongin recalls the Christmas tree fiasco, and offers suggestions for how to decorate the tree. He lets Jongin wax poetic about Sehun, about learning how to play World of Warcraft and pubg, lets Jongin talk about anything and everything that could possibly be on his mind. Jongin yawns halfway through one of his sentences, and takes a moment to look at the clock on his bedside table. His eyes bug out, realizing he’s spoken to Chanyeol for more than two hours.

“Oh gosh,” Jongin says, “I haven’t shut up once.”

“I think that’s the longest time you’ve ever spoken to me in a single sitting.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Chanyeol says, “I enjoyed it. And it’s much better listening to you than being cooped up in this boring campsite in the damn mountains.”

“Less than a week,” Jongin says, pouting even though he knows Chanyeol can’t see it.

“Five days,” Chanyeol corrects, and Jongin can almost imagine the smile on his face.

“Get some rest, Jonginnie,” Chanyeol says, “I’ll be busy for these last couple days with the other Alphas, but I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Okay,” Jongin replies, saying goodbye one more time before hanging up the phone. He feels like he should have said something else to close out the call, something stronger than just _ goodbye _. But examining what lies… deeper beneath the surface makes Jongin feel a phantom sweat break out across his skin, a nervousness that settles in his bones.

He stares at the ceiling, mind replaying Baekhyun’s words from weeks ago. _ If you don’t move fast enough, another Baekhyun just might swoop in, and steal him from your hands. What will you do then Jongin? _

_ What will I do _? Jongin asks himself, and in this moment of weakness allows his brain to acknowledge the well of emotion that he holds for Chanyeol.

“What will I do,” Jongin repeats out loud, staring at the ceiling, before forcing his eyes close, and letting an uncomfortable, dreamless sleep take control.

***

It is two days until Chanyeol returns, and Jongin knows immediately when he wakes up, that his body is just _ off _ . He drank the last of Chanyeol’s homemade blood bags yesterday, gulped them down like the starving vampire he felt like, and even though he _ knows _it’s Chanyeol’s blood, he still feels a little squeamish because of the old blood. Jongin’s skin feels just a tad too tight on his body, feeling like he’s out of place. His teeth ache in his mouth, fangs descending without him realizing it. Jongin rolls out of bed and knows for a fact that it’s going to be a very long day.

He goes out to the living room and kitchen area in the hopes that he can try and distract himself until the uneasiness dissipates, but Chanyeol sees Baekhyun at the counter, sipping blood out of his usual glass, and the sight makes him want to gag. 

“Ugh,” Jongin groans, clutching his stomach, he sways slightly on his feet, using the wall for support. Immediately, he feels arms on his shoulders, righting him, and Baekhyun’s voice in his ears saying, “Jongin, are you okay?”

“Just a bit nauseous,” Jongin says, blinking the stars out of his eyes. He feels like shit, to be quite honest, but doesn’t want to tell Baekhyun that. It’s not as bad as it was before he started regularly feeding from Chanyeol, but in this moment, he doesn’t feel so great either.

“Whoa,” Baekhyun says, “you’re burning up!”

“I’m what?” Jongin’s words slur together, and Baekhyun carries him to the kitchen table, making him sit down. 

“Junmyeon!” Baekhyun shouts out loud, but the words feel far away to Jongin’s ears.

“What, what?” Junmyeon practically runs into the dining room area, not even wearing a shirt. Jongin stares at his abs for a second, momentarily spacing out. He moves his eyes up to Junmyeon’s face and realizes that seeing Junmyeon half naked and just rolled out of bed, a sight he’s wanted to see for so long, doesn’t do much of anything to him anymore. In fact, all it makes him do is miss— 

“--ongin? Jongin?” Baekhyun snaps a finger in front of Jongin’s eyes, and that brings his vision into focus.

“Jonginnie,” Junmyeon says, kneeling in front of Jongin who’s seated in the chair. He hates that Junmyeon is talking to him like a child, but also wants to laugh at the compromising position the two of them are in. _ Oh, _ Jongin laughs, and it feels like a connection to a memory from months ago, _ this is what that feels like _. 

“When was the last time you fed?”

“Yes-Yesterday,” Jongin replies, tongue feeling thick in his mouth. “Blood bags.”

Junmyeon gives him a look, before exchanging a glance with Baekhyun. “Am I wrong to assume that you have… been feeding from Chanyeol for a while now?”

“N-no,” Jongin admits, fangs puncturing his own bottom lip, “Blood bags make me sick, been drinking from Chanyeol since.”

“What do you mean ‘make you sick’?” Baekhyun asks, and hands Jongin a cold glass of water.

“My stomach hurts, I throw up,” Jongin shrugs, “It’s no big deal.”

“No big _ deal? _ ” Junmyeon says, voice raised up, “Kim Jongin are you fucking serious right now? Were you never going to tell me you were allergic to blood bags?! And all this time I _ forced _you to drink them…”

Jongin waves him off, “It’s n-nothing,” he says, feeling sweat at the back of his neck.

“You need fresh blood,” Junmyeon says, “it’s rare, that vampires bodies react like this to old blood… but just like humans have allergies, it’s the same concept. Is that…” Junmyeon’s voice trails off as he gets up off the ground, he picks Jongin’s face up to look into his eyes, “is this why you were always so hungry?” his voice is barely above a whisper. “Is this why you—”

“No,” Jongin replies, understanding what Junmyeon is trying to say. “Or maybe… I don’t know.”

“Right,” Junmyeon says, nodding, and Jongin guesses, for once in his life, pretending he knows what’s going on.

Junmyeon and Baekhyun look towards each other one more time, before Junmyeon sighs, defeated. “You need to feed. On real blood.” Junmyeon runs a hand through his own hair, before pushing Jongin’s fringe out of his face.

“Get me my coat,” Junmyeon says to Baekhyun.

“What are-what are you gonna do?” Jongin asks.

Junmyeon looks away, “I’m going to get you a human.”

There’s a moment of silence where Junmyeon’s words register in Jongin’s brain, when he realizes that Junmyeon is going to go out there and get a random stranger for Jongin to drink from, just so that he stops feeling feverish. It makes Jongin want to cry in a way, in the way that Junmyeon is showing he cares—a visible, tangible way. It’s all Jongin’s ever wanted, it’s all he’s ever wished for from Junmyeon, for so, so, damn long—but it also makes his stomach twist around inside. He doesn’t want to feed from a random stranger. He doesn’t want to drink human blood. 

He just wants Chanyeol.

And that singular realization is enough to make Jongin close his eyes in fear, tears collecting at the corners of his eyes. He takes a deep, steadying breath.

“No,” Jongin says, “I don’t want a human’s blood.”

“Jongin, you—”

“No,” Jongin says, firm. “I won’t drink from another human. I’ll just. I’ll just go to my room and wait for him.”

“Jongin,” Junmyeon says, and his tone is stern, “you don’t need a lot… if you’re afraid you’ll kill them—don’t worry. I’ll be here with Baekhyun. We’ll stop you.”

“It’s not that,” Jongin says, shrugging. “But thank you for the offer.” He gets up on shaky legs, and manages to walk back to his room, before falling face first on his bed.

***

Later, Jongin’s eyes shoot open as he hears his door being pushed in. He hears hushed voices coming from right outside his room. The voices stop after a moment, and Jongin and rolls onto his back and tries to sit up, to see what’s going on.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says, and Jongin blinks the sleep out of his eyes to be greeted by the face of none other than— 

“Yixing?” Jongin says, surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Yixing offers him a warm smile, and scratches the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. His hoodie is on his head haphazardly and his hair that peeks through looks like an absolute mess. “I heard you’re hungry,” Yixing says carefully, moving towards the bed slowly after closing the door. He approaches Jongin like a scared animal, like one false move might send Jongin hurtling himself at full speed at Yixing himself.

“I’m—I’m fine,” Jongin replies, shy.

Yixing nods. He looks off to the side, breaking eye contact for a moment, before sitting at the foot of the bed. “It’s okay to not be fine,” Yixing says quietly, patting the empty space near him. “I’m here because Chanyeol can’t be,” Yixing continues honestly, offering Jongin a small smile once again.

“How did he—”

“Your sire out there,” Yixing points to the door with his chin, “is one scary fucking vampire,” he shudders, “Jesus Christ.”

Jongin snorts at that, laughing. “You don’t know the half of it.”

“Well,” Yixing starts, “he all but demanded Chanyeol come down here now, and do his—and I quote—_ fucking job— _lest he want to be met with the wrath and ire of a five hundred year old man.”

“He called himself an old man?”

“No, I’m calling him an old man,” Yixing snorts, “but anyway, trust me. I’m here as your food.”

“When you say it like that, it sounds awful.”

Yixing shrugs. “I’m not Chanyeol and I’m not gonna have Chanyeol’s blood but… he’s hoping another werewolf will suffice for now.”

Jongin nods softly, taking it all in. Chanyeol sent Yixing here, on his behalf, _ for him _ . Because he heard Jongin was _ hungry _. A shiver runs down Jongin’s spine at the thought, and he feels himself overwhelmed with that same previous emotion he refuses to identify.

_ “ _Okay,” he says quietly, “I am a little hungry.”

Yixing chuckles, before scooting closer on the bed to Jongin, staying on top of the covers. He holds his arm out for Jongin to drink. Jongin accepts Yixing’s arm politely, examining it carefully. Yixing’s arms are strong, yet much thinner than Chanyeol’s. His body is lithe and lean, less mass muscle and more toned. Jongin licks a stripe up Yixing’s arm and he feels him shudder beside him. Jongin’s about to tell him nevermind, that it’s okay, but then he feels Yixing’s hand on his cheek motioning his face up. Jongin meets Yixing’s soft gaze.

“It’s okay,” Yixing says, “and I know you won’t kill me so… eat up!” 

Jongin stifles a laugh against Yixing’s arm, before he sinks his fangs in and takes a bite.

***

When Chanyeol comes back, the atmosphere around them seems to shift ever so slightly. Jongin is noticing it, quite obviously, that Chanyeol has decided to dote on him and be more attentive to his needs than ever before. He wonders if it’s guilt perhaps, at having missed Jongin when he needed him. He wonders if it’s just Chanyeol trying to remedy the fact that Junmyeon was stressed out enough about his condition to call Chanyeol directly.

Jongin refuses to entertain the possibility of _ more _ . He remembers what Chanyeol is here for, regardless of what he _ wants _ Chanyeol to be here for. Yixing’s words during his feeding still rang in his mind—he is Chanyeol’s _ fucking job _. Junmyeon stressed it, and Yixing reiterated it. Jongin cannot let himself forget this. 

“Is everything okay?” Chanyeol’s voice breaks through the fog of Jongin’s mind, and he remembers once again where he is at: Chanyeol’s cottage, on the couch, in soft pajamas. Jongin looks at Chanyeol’s face, full of genuine concern, and he somehow still cannot believe that he and Chanyeol have been doing this for months. It feels closer to _ years _, sometimes. 

“I’m good,” Jongin replies, unsure of what else to say. His stomach is in knots but he thinks it’s more out of nervousness than hunger. He hasn’t felt this awkward around Chanyeol since the very beginning, and even then, the awkwardness wasn’t for the same reasons. Jongin doesn’t know what’s changed, whether it’s Chanyeol shifting the focus of their sessions again, or whether this change is just him, just within in. Chanyeol’s extra care has gotten to his head, Jongin thinks, has made him feel things and imagine things that can’t be there—things that can’t be real. 

Jongin swirls the icing on top of his cinnamon bun with the tip of his fork, suddenly not feeling so hungry anymore. 

“Jongin,” Chanyeol’s voice cuts through to him again, and Jongin feels like he’s being scolded. 

Jongin takes a deep breath and is about to come up with an excuse, but a loud knock at the door breaks the tension. Chanyeol is up and at the door immediately to respond.

“CHANYEOL!” A loud, hyperactive voice booms, followed by a much softer, more reserved one. All at once Jongin feels his senses assaulted with the new scent of two other werewolves.

“Well, hello, there,” a voice says off to the side, and Jongin looks up to meet the brown eyes of a man with a mischievous looking smile. His hair is nearly white with how blonde it is, and he has a soft, almost feminine features. 

“Hyung!” Chanyeol says, to the man, and Jongin is shocked to find out that he’s older than Chanyeol enough for him to address him in such a way.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing?” the man says, giving Jongin a saucy wink. He crowds into Jongin’s space easily, sitting down next to him, legs touching Jongin’s. “My name is Lu Han.”

Jongin nods slowly, remembering his voice, “H-Hi,” he says, “I’m Jongin.”

“Oh!” Lu Han’s eyes light up once again, “You’re the precious little vampire my Chanyeollie is taking care of, aren’t you, darling?”

Jongin has no idea what this man is saying at all, but he nods his head, embarrassed. “Hah, yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck, nervous, “that’s me.”

“Why you’re just the most precious thing in the world, aren’t you?” Lu Han purrs.

“Stop harassing, my—Jongin. Stop harassing Jongin.”

“Your what, Chanyeollie?” Lu Han says, smirking.

“Hyung…” Chanyeol says, voice trailing off.

“Fine, fine!” Lu Han says, putting his hands up, “can’t have fun here anymore!”

“Stop with the dramatics,” the other guest says, and Jongin turns his head around to greet the eyes of a man with black hair and full cheeks. He too, wears a mischievous smile. 

“Tao,” Lu Han says, and nods at Jongin, “introduce yourself.”

“I’m Tao,” the man replies, offering a shy smile, “I’m Lu Han’s charge.”

“Just like Chanyeol once was,” Lu Han says, wistful. He wipes fake tears from his eyes, while cackling, and launches himself at Chanyeol, who only catches Lu Han quickly enough because of his fast reflexes.

“Jesus Christ, Lu Han!” Chanyeol shouts, wrapping his arms around him.

Lu Han keeps laughing, “They grow up so fast!” Chanyeol rolls his eyes.

Jongin doesn’t know what expression he’s wearing on his face, but he feels so _ lost _. Chanyeol takes pity on him though, when he meets his gaze. “Lu Han was the Alpha I worked for years ago, when I first started learning about healing.”

“Ah,” Jongin says intelligently, still trying to wrap his head around the entire situation. “I thought he was younger,” he adds dumbly.

“I have a very youthful face,” Lu Han says seriously, before giving Jongin a thousand watt smile. A beat of silence passes between them before Lu Han shrugs. “Anyway,” he says, “Chanyeollie, I just came to give you your gift.” 

“Gift?”

“Your birthday, dumbshit,” Lu Han says, “from me and Tao.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol repeats, and then Jongin watches the flush on Chanyeol’s face spread across his cheeks. “I know it’s been years, but I never forget my student’s birthdays.” Lu Han hands Chanyeol a gift box passed to him from Tao, and squeezes him in a tight hug. 

“I’ll see you around,” Lu Han says, forcing Chanyeol to bend down so he can ruffle his hair. “We have to go, duty calls, etcetera, etcetera, you know how the wolf council is.”

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “God, don’t I know it.”

Lu Han laughs at that, before turning back to face Jongin. “I think we’ll be seeing more of you around in the future, too, sugar.” Lu Han offers Jongin a sideways smile.

“Ignore him,” Tao quips, rolling his eyes, “but yes I’m sure we’ll see you around.” 

Jongin nods politely, “See you too,” he says, watching them give Chanyeol last minute hugs before walking back out the door. It’s quiet for a long moment, and Jongin studies Chanyeol’s face intently, watches as he looks so lost in thought. 

“I didn’t know it was your birthday,” Jongin says quietly, and Chanyeol shakes his head slightly before turning to Jongin, a soft smile on his face.

Chanyeol shrugs, as he clutches the gift to himself just a little tighter, excited. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jongin asks, a little pushy. 

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol replies honestly, “the pack and I, we’re celebrating tomorrow because we couldn’t today.”

“Because of me,” Jongin solves quickly.

“It’s not like that, Jongin.” Chanyeol says, coming towards him and cupping Jongin’s face. “You’re my priority, okay? And birthdays come every year.”

“I’m immortal,” Jongin intones, “I’ll still be here tomorrow. And the next day. The next decade, even.”

Chanyeol smiles at that. “You promise?” he asks, and Jongin feels like the question extends just beyond being here, right in this moment, or moments Jongin mentioned, encapsulates everything and every time in between. It feels like he’s standing on a precipice, like he could close his eyes and fall backwards, and believe that Chanyeol would be there at the bottom, to catch him when he falls.

“I do,” Jongin says, voice soft, “I promise.” He smiles at Chanyeol, and stands up, leaning his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder. This feels so easy now, so free. Chanyeol’s hand comes up and wraps itself around Jongin’s back automatically. Jongin breathes in Chanyeol’s natural werewolf musk, the woodsy, pine smell that Jongin has now come to associate with comfort above all else.

Chanyeol rests his head on top of Jongin’s, and Jongin can almost imagine that he feels the impressions of a kiss pressed atop his hair. They hold each other in silence, until Jongin asks, “Mr. Park, what do you want for your birthday? I could have gotten you a really nice gift if I had known… I still will… but you have to tell me.”

Chanyeol chuckles lightly. “Still ‘Mr. Park,’ isn’t it?” he says, but his tone holds no real heat. 

“Your present,” Jongin asks again, looking up at Chanyeol’s face.

Chanyeol looks pensive, face stuck in contemplation. A thought, unbidden comes to Jongin’s mind. _ What if he asks you to kiss him? What will you do? _Jongin shudders under the weight of his swirling emotions. 

_ I would do it, _he tells himself, and the thought scares him so much.

“Let me hold you,” Chanyeol says shyly, and Jongin nods.

“Of course,” he replies.

Chanyeol looks away, and then back at Jongin’s face. “In the room?” he suggests, and Jongin feels a blush creep to his face. 

“Is this part of the… of our…” Jongin’s voice trails off.

“No, it isn’t,” Chanyeol answers honestly, “I’m sorry I asked.”

“No, no!” Jongin blurts, hands grabbing Chanyeol’s shirt. “We can… please. We can.”

Chanyeol smiles wide, and pulls Jongin with him to his bed. Chanyeol places his gift down on the dresser gently, murmuring that he bets Lu Han just got him a bunch of nice new button up shirts to use for those blasted council meetings. Jongin watches as Chanyeol gets on top of his bed, pulling the covers up over himself. He motions for Jongin to follow him, and once Jongin is underneath, Chanyeol pulls him close to his body.

“Th-Thanks for this,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin ducks his face into Chanyeol’s warmth.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Jongin asks, softly. He feels like this is benefitting him more than Chanyeol. Jongin digs his cold toes against Chanyeol’s warm legs, and feels the werewolf softly hiss against his ear.

“You’re a brat,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin laughs. A beat of silence and then, “Yes,” Chanyeol says honestly, “this really helps me.”

“Okay,” Jongin says easily, because he will not deny Chanyeol, nor himself, this. “Okay.”

“Werewolves,” Chanyeol starts, “we feed off closeness. We revel in comfort and physical touch. Especially from pack members and—” Chanyeol cuts himself off, voice contemplative, “and people who we consider very important to us, to our care,” he says, and Jongin has the distinct feeling that Chanyeol is leaving something out on purpose. 

Chanyeol’s arms around Jongin’s body squeeze tighter, and he pulls Jongin impossibly closer. Jongin tilts his head to the side, to make himself comfortable, and inadvertently shows his neck to Chanyeol.

“Fuck,” Chanyeol says, and his lips kiss the skin there. Jongin remembers Chanyeol’s reaction the last time he did that, how he backed off so quickly. Chanyeol’s nose is cold from the frigid air. “You smell divine,” he says softly, and presses a soft kiss to Jongin’s pulse point. Far off in the distance of his mind, Jongin imagines what it would feel like for Chanyeol to sink his teeth into his neck and bite him, claim him. He wonders if Alphas can do that, wonders if a werewolf has ever bitten a vampire. The thought makes him shudder against his will. 

“Cold?” Chanyeol asks.

“No,” Jongin says, “you’re warm enough for me.” He playfully runs his feet up Chanyeol’s calves, and Chanyeol’s hands on his back spread across the entirety of it, fingers pressing down against Jongin’s skin. 

Chanyeol’s breathing starts to even out after a while, and Jongin looks up at Chanyeol’s face, seeing his eyes closed softly in sleep. Jongin smiles to himself, moving closer to Chanyeol’s body, snuggling in. He feels like there are many things in his life now, that are different. He thinks that this Christmas season feels heavier almost, but lighter at the same time. Jongin lets his mind wander, about his past lives, about his past hobbies, and feels like for the first time in a long while, he is moving forward, and out of a long stasis. He studies Chanyeol’s features intently, and wonders how he _ did _it. How he helped Jongin so much, how he made the last eight or so months feel like years, in comparison. 

Jongin thinks about where he was at the start of this, and laughs at himself. He was so angry, so scared, but mostly—

He was so alone. 

He thinks of Baekhyun, thinks of Junmyeon, thinks of many things he could have said a hundred years ago. Jongin thinks about all the times in his life he has played it safe, all the times since he was turned where he could have pushed further, gone farther, done… _ more _.

He thinks about Wilde again, and wonders if he is living up to his friend’s legacy. Jongin has felt more life flow through his veins now than before, has felt more welcome and more open to waking up and breathing in the life around him that he has in his worst days. He thinks about Chanyeol, and the way his big arms feel around his body. He enjoys the way Chanyeol makes him feel small, revels in the way that Chanyeol _ needs _him, that Chanyeol gives him his undivided attention, how Chanyeol volunteered to be a punching bag for Jongin in the first place and nothing else. 

Jongin imagines Chanyeol and he as magnets—werewolves and vampires, they don’t usually get along. Not quite oil and water, but never two connecting magnetic poles. And yet, Jongin has never felt calmer than in the arms of his werewolf, has never felt more centered like this, in his entire life. He remembers how completely Chanyeol had ensnared him in the beginning, all by being responsive to Jongin’s texts, all by giving Jongin his _ time _. Chanyeol had moved from someone-to-be-weary-of to someone Jongin knew he could count on. Chanyeol sent Yixing to Jongin when he needed werewolf blood, for crying out loud. Chanyeol could have waited another day. Chanyeol doesn’t owe him anything. 

And yet. 

There isn’t anyone else that Jongin can imagine being in the arms of on a snowy day—not a single person he’d rather have wrapped around him.

It seems funny now, to Jongin, how awfully he used to love Junmyeon. He still feels his heart twinge at the mention of his sire, and especially in light of Junmyeon’s attentiveness. But the real lust has all but faded away, to be replaced only with admiration and a gentle level of respect, the way every vampire feels about their sire. Jongin bites his lip, stifling a laugh, and wonders truly, how one werewolf managed to change his life like this. For the better. 

He cups Chanyeol’s cheek in sleep, and watches as Chanyeol’s body responds to his touch, face leaning to the right to nuzzle into Jongin’s warm palm, just like a puppy. Jongin rather likes Chanyeol like this, all soft around the edges, less the Mr. Park he first met… and more like the wolf that Jongin has come to… that he’s come to-to— 

Jongin sighs.

—to _ love _. 

There’s no point in denying the obvious, Jongin’s brain supplies, and while the feelings are a jumbled mess, Jongin knows the fog belies the real truth of the matter.

It has been a long time coming, Jongin thinks, as he cups Chanyeol’s beautiful face just a little bit tighter, memories of that one night weeks ago rushing through his mind, letting his cheeks phantom flush in embarrassment. He remembers calling out Chanyeol’s name when he came by his own hand, and right now, he wonders what it would feel like to come by Chanyeol’s instead. Would he be rough? Would it be painful? Would he tell Jongin what to do? Would Jongin lie back and let it happen?

_ Of course, _ Jongin thinks, _ I want it so much _ , _ I might choke on my desire. I want him so much, I might go hungry for it. _

Jongin presses his mouth to Chanyeol’s neck, and fits himself there, in the space between. He lets his teeth scrape over Chanyeol’s sensitive skin, and feels Chanyeol’s body open in response. Chanyeol rolls onto his back, and Jongin follows him, now resting his head on Chanyeol’s chest. He runs a hand under Chanyeol’s thin t-shirt, letting his fingers trace invisible shapes underneath the fabric. 

This feeling, it’s different. It is light years away from how he felt about Junmyeon. A whole ocean away. The warmth that blooms in Jongin’s chest feels like a flower in the spring—fresh, vital, and springing up out of the coldest months. New life, growing up and outwards, to touch the sun. Feels like he could do anything with that budding feeling, feels like it could truly grow into something beautiful. 

Jongin leans over and presses a kiss to Chanyeol’s cheek, and feels Chanyeol’s face turn to him. Jongin revels in the way that even in his sleep, Chanyeol is most receptive to him. The thought makes his tummy turn in the best way. Jongin closes his eyes, and lets Chanyeol’s breathing lull him into sleep. 

He, for the first time, no longer feels afraid.

***

A few days later and Jongin feels like it is time to open a can of worms he has never wanted to address, but finally, finally it feels like the right time. He’s sitting in the living room, near the Christmas tree, waiting for Junmyeon to walk through the front door. Baekhyun’s in the room having a nap, and Jongin’s got a cup of hot tea between his hands to give himself something else to focus on. He feels like hundreds of years of his life are leading up to this. His hand shakes slightly from the nerves, but he stares at the lights on the tree to ground himself. He can do this, he can do this.

_ I can do this, _ Jongin tells himself, _ I can look at him and I can do this _.

The front door opens quietly, and Jongin turns towards the sound. He sees Junmyeon with his briefcase slung over his shoulder, glasses askew, and water bottle balanced carefully in his hand. 

“Oh,” Junmyeon says, kicking his shoes off near the door, “Hey, Jongin.”

Jongin nods at him, “Hey,” he offers softly. He looks at the cup of tea in his hands, and feels the warmth in his fingertips. Jongin gulps. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Junmyeon says, nodding his head. He puts all of his stuff down on top of the dining table, before making his way into the living room. Junmyeon sits on the opposite end of the couch from Jongin, body turned towards him. “What’s up?” 

Jongin inhales deeply through his nose, a calming gesture. He thought of many different ways he could start this discussion, toyed with many methods of approach. He settles for the most natural one.

“I know about Johnny,” Jongin blurts out, “I know what you did for him. For Sehun.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon replies lamely, and Jongin looks at him, gaze piercing. 

“I know what you’ve done… for _ me _.” Jongin adds softly, “though I don’t agree with your methods I—I understand now.”

Junmyeon moves closer to Jongin, their thighs touching. Long ago, the gesture would have made his face heat up, his stomach feel bottomless. 

Now it just makes him feel calm.

“I didn’t think you needed to know,” Junmyeon says, “in fact, I never wanted you too.”

“It was Sehun who told me,” Jongin says honestly.

“I see.”

They sit in silence for a long time, pondering. Jongin puts down his cup of tea and turns his body towards Junmyeon, mirroring his position.

“I resented… so many things about our relationship for so long,” Jong starts off, “I felt like I was somehow lesser. Like somewhere along the way I stopped mattering as much to you as… as Baekhyun does.”

A look of hurt passes over Junmyeon’s face, but Jongin keeps pushing on with his words, afraid he’ll lose his nerves. 

“I have… have loved you, Junmyeon, for so long. For… for my entire vampire life, I think,” Jongin sniffs, and meets Junmyeon’s gaze. His eyes are wide in shock, mouth open. “I thought… I thought one day. One day you would see me as your equal. One day it would be the same.”

Jongin runs a hand through his hair, brimming on nervous energy. 

“Baekhyun, he and I we’ve… we’ve not gotten along very well the last couple decades, have we?” Jongin lets out a short laugh, the sound hollow to his own ears. “I’ve been angry,” Jongin admits, “at you, at Baekhyun… but I think I have mostly been angry at myself.”

They sit in silence, and Jongin watches as the words register in Junmyeon’s brain. 

“Jongin I—”

He waves him off, “Let me finish.”

“Baekhyun told me he knew that I loved you. And yet he loved you, too. He made a move before I could. And I spent nearly a century watching from the sidelines. Wishing that could have been me instead…” Jongin voice trails off on the thought, brain feeling melancholic. “I haven’t been myself for a while, I’ve realized that.”

“Jongin, I never stopped caring about you,” Junmyeon says, before Jongin can tell him to be quiet. He places a hand, palm down, on Jongin’s knee. “No matter what—what you’ve done. I always think of you. And I’ve never been angry with you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Jongin snaps. “Sunshined, huh?”

“I deserved that,” Junmyeon admits, nodding his head, “I’ve been harsh these last couple of years… I’ve done a lot of things to you that I regret. A lot of times where I just… I didn’t know what to give you anymore. And sometimes it just felt like you weren’t there, inside your head,” Junmyeon runs a hand through his hair, “And being harsh with you was the easiest way to get a reaction from you, to make sure you were still there.”

“I emotionally checked out,” Jongin sighs. “I’ve _ been _emotionally checked out,” he amends, “for a long while. And for a myriad of things, too. It just felt… easier to ignore everything instead of letting it consume me.” Jongin inhales a shaky breath, looking at Junmyeon. “I’m sorry I killed all those people,” Jongin frowns, “I never—I didn’t mean to hurt them or for the Council to get involved, I just… I couldn’t control it.” 

Junmyeon squeezes his knee, and Jongin lays his hand, right on top. “It’s okay,” he reassures, “I understand now, your bloodlust. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”

Jongin nods his head gently, lost in thought. “Just. Be honest with me?” Jongin pleads, after a silence.

Junmyeon nods.

“If… If I had somehow managed to ask—If I had been first, would…” Jongin looks away, trying to save his composure. “Would you have loved me in the same way?”

“Oh, Jongin,” Junmyeon says, and he moves his hands from Jongin’s knee, to cup his face. Junmyeon turns Jongin to look at him, and they meet for the first time in a long time—eye to eye. “I have always loved you,” he says, voice bared and completely honest. “And I always will.”

“Oh,” Jongin breathes out, and the word feels like a weight against his chest, like something heavy across his ribcage, binding him.

“But,” Junmyeon continues, “I could never allow myself to take advantage of that love that both you and Sehun carried.”

“Sehun?” Jongin adds, “You mean—”

“I knew,” Junmyeon admits, fingers still holding onto Jongin’s face, “I have always known.”

Tears roll down Jongin’s face slowly, and then all at once he feels an overwhelming sense of embarrassment flood his senses. 

“You knew?!” He shouts, an accusation, but Junmyeon does not let go. 

“Yes,” Junmyeon says, “and I’m glad you said nothing. I never wanted to be in the position to reject you.”

“Junmyeon I’m—”

“Jongin, baby,” Junmyeon says, wiping the tears on Jongin’s face with his thumbs. “I am your _ sire _ . I made you. I have sway over you. For your entire life you will always have to obey me in some way. You could never truly tell me _ no _.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jongin bites out.

“Get on the floor, face me,” Junmyeon says abruptly, voice all steel.

Jongin feels himself react, falling into a position between Junmyeon’s spread legs in the space between a single breath. Jongin doesn’t even fully register what he’s done, until Junmyeon cups his face again, this time leaning down to hold Jongin by the back of the neck. “Do you understand now?” Junmyeon says, voice tight.

“I—I see,” Jongin says, gulping. He gets back up on the couch again, filling into his previous spot easily.

“On my conscience, I couldn’t do that to you,” Junmyeon murmurs. “Even if you hated me, even if we fought, all I had to do was say a word, and you would crumple to the floor. It doesn’t seem very fair does it?”

“But I loved you,” Jongin whispers, voice small.

Junmyeon nods, offering a small smile. He looks contemplative, eyeing Jongin carefully, before he says, “Not anymore though, right? Or have I misread what this talk is about?”

Jongin feels a flush color his cheeks, taken aback. “N-No,” he says quickly, “you haven’t.”

“I’ve never been prouder of you,” Junmyeon says softly, “than right now, in this moment.”

“Why is that?” Jongin chuckles softly, wiping his face.

“Simple,” Junmyeon says, and grabs both of Jongin’s hands in his. “You’re letting me go.”

Jongin feels a fresh wave of tears fall from his eyes, spilling onto his lap and staining his sweatpants. He realizes belatedly, that the clothes he is wearing are not his, but _ Chanyeol’s. _He thinks Junmyeon must have known since he first walked in, what Jongin was leading to, what he was aiming towards.

“You make it sound like I’m moving out,” Jongin says, laughing through the waterfall. He looks up at Junmyeon, whose eyes are just as shiny, but his tears remain unshed. 

“Not out, but on,” Junmyeon smiles wryly. 

“Moving on,” Jongin repeats, nodding his head. “I really am.”

“I couldn’t be prouder,” Junmyeon adds, “of everything you are. Of the way you’ve changed.”

“I’ve been checked out for so long… feels like I missed so much of our lives,” he admits.

“We live forever,” Junmyeon snorts, “you’ve got all the time in the world.”

“You’re right,” Jongin says, “you’re right.” He pulls Junmyeon in for a hug, and Junmyeon freezes for a moment, before squeezing him tightly. Jongin responds in kind, feeling that similar weight now lift off his shoulders. He pulls back, and it feels like he’s looking at Junmyeon for the first time again, feels like he was pulled off the cobblestone, and bitten at the neck, given a new lease on a life he didn’t get to have.

Junmyeon presses a soft kiss to Jongin’s mouth, taking Jongin by surprise. He responds in kind, chasing Junmyeon’s mouth even as he pulls away.

“Consider it a peace offering,” Junmyeon chuckles, before pressing a kiss to Jongin’s forehead. 

“I’ve always wanted you to do that,” Jongin confesses, “for so long I—” he cuts his voice off, waving his hand back and forth in front of him, struggling to find the words. 

“Did it live up to your expectations?”

“Yes and no,” Jongin says, “hardly any fireworks but… there’ll always be that warmth there. You turned me afterall.”

“Tough crowd,” Junmyeon jokes, rubbing Jongin’s knee. They sit in silence, Jongin lost in thought, pondering. 

“I love you, still,” he admits, accepting that although many things have changed, this, this right here, will always be the same. Junmyeon turned him, Junmyeon saved him—and Jongin thinks he’s right. They do live forever. They can find their way back to the relationship they had before, the easy push and pull of two vampires, of a sire and his charge—and nothing more. Jongin smiles to himself. 

“But as my sire,” he clarifies, “only as my sire.”

“I want you to be happy, Jongin,” Junmyeon says, and his brutal honesty in his voice takes Jongin by surprise. “I want you to always be happy.”

“I will be,” Jongin says, with a finality he did not realize he possessed. He smiles at Junmyeon, and it reaches his eyes. 

***

Later that night, Jongin knocks on Chanyeol’s door. It’s well past one in the morning, and Jongin had to navigate through about three different taxi cabs to get them to take him on the hour long drive to Chanyeol’s place. The last car dropped him off about a quarter of a mile away, at the last gas station, when Jongin had convinced the gentlemen that he was fine to walk the rest of the way here. The taxi cab driver had given him a funny look, like Jongin wasn’t completely in his right mind, but anyone will turn the other way for a few extra thousand won shoved in their hand. 

Jongin spent the nightly walk, hands shoved into his pockets out of habit to combat against the cold. He found himself thinking about everything and anything—about what to say to Chanyeol when he arrived at his house, over if his outfit was okay. Jongin spent the short walk mostly trying to combat his nerves, something he never felt he had to deal with before. His earlier talk with Junmyeon gave him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt was possible. Jongin feels the anvil lifted off his chest, ready to continue moving forward. He counted the stars in the sky every time he looked up, and wondered if those same stars had been around when he was really alive, during his first life. 

Those stars watched him die, watched him bleed on the pavement. Watched him turn into a vampire, watched him travel the world, make friends, fall in love over and over again—with some loves much stronger than others. Those same stars watched him cry, and pick himself back up again. Watched him kill humans out of bloodlust.

And it is those same stars that will watch him live again.

The front door opens and it’s Chanyeol, shirtless and hair mussed in sleep. Immediately at registering it is Jongin before him, Chanyeol’s eyes widen in shock.

“Is everything okay?” Chanyeol says, voice thick with sleep but worried.

Jongin shrugs. “Can I come in?”

Chanyeol nods, “Of course,” he says, coaxing Jongin into his home. Jongin takes his shoes off at the door and makes a beeline for the bedroom.

“Oh-okay,” Chanyeol says, locking his front door and following behind Jongin. Jongin takes his clothes off, down to just his underwear and lays in Chanyeol’s bed, cuddling into the warmth that Chanyeol left behind.

Jongin looks up at Chanyeol’s face, looking at him cluelessly. 

“Cuddle me?” Jongin asks, bottom lip jutting out. He wants to be comfortable for this. 

“Sure,” Chanyeol laughs, getting into bed, big arms wrapping around Jongin. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Jongin replies, “I missed you.”

Chanyeol looks taken aback by Jongin’s honest reply. “Well I missed you too,” he says, softly booping Jongin’s nose. “But really, what’s up?”

Jongin sighs, pressing his cold toes against Chanyeol’s calves. 

“Son of a b—!” Chanyeol shouts, flinching at Jongin’s ice cold skin. “Jesus Christ!” Jongin laughs at Chanyeol, feeling much more calm now, and ready to take this on. 

“Not that I mind,” Chanyeol continues, “but is there a reason you took your clothes off…?”

Jongin shrugs, “Cold.”

“Right, okay,” Chanyeol says, pulling Jongin into his arms. “I can warm you up.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” Jongin says, rubbing his nose against Chanyeol’s chest. He knows Chanyeol is still confused as hell as to why he’s here, but Jongin feels so comfortable in Chanyeol’s embrace, he thinks he can spare a few moments of inhaling Chanyeol’s scent to calm his nerves.

“I confronted Junmyeon,” he continues, voice muffled against Chanyeol’s chest. “About everything. About Johnny. About Sehun…. About me,” Jongin’s voice cracks, “about my… my feelings.”

Chanyeol pulls back, eyes locked on Jongin’s face. “How did that go?”

“Wonderfully,” Jongin says, and there’s no malice in his voice. “I feel like I got closure. A century’s worth of it.”

“I’m proud of you,” Chanyeol says, “that must have been really difficult.”

_ It wasn’t that hard, _ Jongin thinks, _ because I had you to think of _. 

“It was okay,” is what Jongin says, “I feel like a brand new person.”

“Letting go of pain does that to you,” Chanyeol replies, and his hand starts rubbing small, comforting circles against Jongin’s back. “Letting go of hurt is cathartic.”

Jongin nods silently, snuggling up to Chanyeol’s body. He lays his cheek against Chanyeol’s chest, inhaling and exhaling in time with Chanyeol’s breaths. He lets the atmosphere fall into him like a balm, absorbing nothing but the feeling of Chanyeol’s body next to his.

“When I was still a human,” Jongin murmurs, “I was one of the first ballerinos in the world. I attended the Royal Academy of Dance… founded by King Louis XIV himself…” He lets his voice trail off, fingers tracing patterns against Chanyeol’s skin.

“It was the late 1600s… I don’t know what happened. There was so many of us. Women were starting to join in, too. It was after a performance at night… I guess I was distracted,” Jongin’s fingers cease their movements. “One of my fellow male dancers he—he stabbed me. Through the abdomen. While I was walking home. I was going to bleed out on the cobblestone… in my clothes… but then, someone picked me up. And held me.” Jongin’s fingers start their pattern again, and he shifts himself to look up at Chanyeol’s eyes, gaze transfixed.

“Junmyeon pulled me to an alleyway. He bit me and he turned me. He _ saved _me.” Jongin moves his hand from Chanyeol’s chest to his arm, gripping him tightly, an anchor. Chanyeol’s hand keeps rubbing small circles on Jongin’s back.

“He gave me another chance to keep dancing, even though I couldn’t walk in the sun. I was only twenty-two then. I’ve been twenty-two for almost four hundred years, really,” Jongin snorts. He feels tears well up in his eyes, and lets them fall, hitting Chanyeol’s skin. 

“I kept up with ballet as much as I absolutely could, fellow dancers just thought I had a bad accident. I faked a broken leg for quite some time. The ballerino that killed me… well let’s just say Junmyeon didn’t let him live to see another day.” Jongin sighs. “Before people could realize I wasn’t aging the way the rest of them were. We left. Junmyeon and I travelled all around the world, just living in a place for a little while, and then before anyone could get suspicious, we would leave again. And again.

“He always took care of me. He was a vampire then too, about a hundred years into his life. He was obsessed with us, with ballet. _ With me _. I was the best dancer in the company. Maybe that’s why I was killed,” Jongin’s voice is melancholic, “It’s been a long time since I danced,” he adds, the realization hitting him.

“Would you?” Chanyeol asks, voice careful, “would you ever want to dance again?”

“It’s been centuries,” Jongin replies, sadly, “I think I’m too old now.”

Chanyeol laughs at that, and ruffles Jongin’s hair. “I bet you were a beautiful ballerino.” 

“I was,” Jongin says, “I really was.” 

Chanyeol pulls him closer, now wrapping both arms around Jongin’s frame. “Thank you for sharing your story,” he whispers, “thank you for trusting me with your life.”

Jongin feels himself start to cry again, full on sobbing, the weight of these words registering to him. “I-I don’t trust people easily,” he says, “or at all. I still don’t know how you did it. How you changed me.” He cries against Chanyeol’s chest.

“I didn’t change you,” Chanyeol says softly, “you didn’t need saving. You just needed someone to be there. I’m glad I could be there for you.”

Jongin presses his face against Chanyeol’s chest harder. “I d-don’t want you to see me cry.”

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol says, “just let it out. I won’t judge you. I won’t ever judge you.” Chanyeol rubs his fingers against Jongin’s scalp. “Are you hungry?”

Jongin nods, and Chanyeol offers his arm again. Jongin takes it swiftly, biting into the flesh, and sucking Chanyeol’s blood down. The liquid fills his mouth slowly, and he drinks his fill easily. Just like a part of their routine. Jongin licks Chanyeol’s skin, where the puncture marks are, and wonders again what it would feel like to bite Chanyeol’s neck once more.

“Chanyeol,” Jongin whispers softly, after they have lain in silence. “Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol,” he repeats, his name flowing like music off the tip of Jongin’s tongue. He wonders why he never spoke it out loud like this before, wonders why the warmth in his chest continues to go and grow, like flowers spreading their vines, reaching for the sun. “Th-thank you for being here. For me.”

Jongin knows he must be such a mess, because Chanyeol doesn’t even comment on the fact that he finally said his first name.

“I’m here for you, baby,” he replies, “I promise.” Chanyeol pets his hair softly.

Jongin believes him.

***

Life goes on from there, as normally as it can for Jongin. The first two weeks of December pass by in a flurry of gift wrapping and last minute decorating. He and Baekhyun’s relationship has never been better, and Jongin decries all the years he spent cast in shadow. He spends his time, thinking over Baekhyun’s words from their fight, and wonders for a moment, if his feelings for Chanyeol are because of the undivided attention or because of something more. He is grateful, in this way, for the holidays also making Chanyeol incessantly busy as well, other werewolf packs hosting holiday parties that Chanyeol has to take his entire pack to attend, to show face and solidarity. The time away from Chanyeol is allowing Jongin to think again, about the current state of his life, and where he wants it to go from here.

“What vest do you think looks good?” Baekhyun says, holding two argyle sweater vests in front of him, one blue and the other red. “Which do you think Junmyeon would like more?”

“God, those are both ugly,” Jongin blurts out, mind brought back to the present. He leans against the clothing rack in the department store they’re shopping in, stifling a yawn. 

“I know they’re ugly but this is my Junmyeon’s favorite style of clothing right now… so which terrible sweater vest should I get him?”

Jongin snorts, before pointing at the red one. “That one looks much better. And it will compliment his skin.”

Baekhyun looks at it closely, “Hmm, you’re right,” he shelves the blue one before throwing the red one at Jongin, who catches it instantly.

“What the hell?” Jongin says.

“My movable cart,” Baekhyun smirks, and Jongin rolls his eyes, but does in fact hold the sweater vest over his arm. They keep window shopping, Jongin watching as Baekhyun’s face lights up over certain items, buying all these different Christmas gifts for Junmyeon. “I won’t let him beat me this year,” Baekhyun says as they reach the checkout, and Jongin is now laden with six other items of clothing. “Last year he won in the amount of money he spent on me. This year, I will win.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jongin mutters, as Baekhyun devests him of the clothing, and the lady at the register rings their items up. She hands them all back to Baekhyun, neatly folded in a paper bag, and offers them both a warm, “Merry Christmas.” Jongin answers her back in kind, adding a soft smile to boot. 

They walk out of the department store, and Jongin stops by a shop selling pretzels, grabbing himself a container of bite sized ones that he can snack on while Baekhyun thinks of the next store to shop at. 

“You’re much happier these days,” Baekhyun says, neutral, trying to initiate a conversation.

“I feel happier,” Jongin replies, shrugging, as he shoves more pretzel bites into his mouth. 

They walk past a store selling high end watches, before Jongin backtracks, eyes fixated on a beautiful silver _ Audemars Piguet _watch. “Wow,” he says, transfixed. The face of the watch is all silver, matching the band, with the numbers listed as Roman numerals. It looks chic, modern, and simple. Jongin’s brain automatically thinks it would look lovely on Chanyeol’s wrist.

“Something you like?” Baekhyun’s voice cuts through, and he almost jumps. 

“No,” Jongin says, a little too quickly. He averts his gaze from the watch, shoving more of the tiny pretzel bites into his mouth.

“Sure thing,” Baekhyun says, eyebrow raised. 

Jongin huffs, and walks past the display case, still munching on his pretzels. Baekhyun scrambles to catch up to him, his short legs causing him to hop around to meet up with Jongin’s pace.

“Hey,” Baekhyun says, reaching his arm out, “I didn’t mean to upset you—I’m sorry.”

“That’s not it,” Jongin says, throwing his empty bag of pretzel bites away, as he wipes his hands on his jeans. “I feel…” he sighs, letting his voice trail off. He shakes his head, divested of words.

Baekhyun leads them to one of the benches in the mall, and they sit down there, catching a breath. Baekhyun sits in silence, just observing Jongin. He can feel Baekhyun’s eyes on him, as he tries to calm his breathing, waiting for his brain to piece together the words he wants to say with the thoughts in his mind.

“Do I really—Do I really love him? Or is it just because he’s there?” Jongin blurts out. His hands fidget in his lap, wringing together.

“Do I really love Junmyeon? Or is it just because _ he’s _ there?” Baekhyun counters. “I’ve known him—and you—for almost my entire vampire life. Sure, he didn’t turn me, but he’s always been there. Do you think it’s out of convenience?”

“No,” Jongin says truthfully, “I think you’re a bastard, but I also know you love him a lot.”

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at Jongin, ignoring his words. “I think you’re afraid, Jongin,” he says softly. “We had this conversation before, you know. And it’s the same thing,” he shrugs, “I think you’re afraid of getting what you want.”

“No, that’s not—”

“You’ve never gotten what you really wanted, not really,” Baekhyun cuts him off, “Junmyeon told me you guys talked, and I’m glad you did. He told me he kissed you. I’m sorry I missed it,” Baekhyun wiggles his eyebrows. “But you’ve never really gotten what you desired, isn’t that right? Never really gotten what you’ve been hungry for. And not here,” Baekhyun jabs at Jongin’s stomach with a pointer finger, “but _ here _,” he rests his hand over Jongin’s heart.

“You’ve had girlfriends, you’ve had boyfriends, even if you never really talked about it. You’ve gotten your degrees. You’ve travelled the world. Is any of this really fulfilling? For either of us?” Baekhyun shrugs, “We live forever. Ever since that moment, I told myself I would always get what I want. What’s the worst that could happen? We don’t die.”

“You-You could live with that rejection forever,” Jongin mutters, voice barely audible.

“A gift and a curse,” Baekhyun says thoughtfully, “and I think that’s only one way of looking at our lives now. Yes, we live with that rejection forever. We live with _ everything _forever. But why let that stop me? I’ll just move on until I find something else I want.”

“What if you stop wanting it then?” Jongin asks, _ Wanting Junmyeon _, is what he implies.

Baekhyun snorts, “It’s a good question. But it’s been decades. It’s been so long. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so much,” he gushes, in a rare show of mushiness, “and that’s the thing, I think. I wake up everyday, wanting him. And I wake up every day grateful that I tried in the first place. You can never know until you try. It’s impossible to guess these things.” 

Jongin looks at Baekhyun, and Baekhyun grabs his hand, squeezing it.

“If you wake up one day, and you realize you don’t like Chanyeol that way anymore, then you move on to the next thing. You keep pushing forward. ‘Cause if you let yourself stay focussed on the past… you can never taste the future.”

Baekhyun’s grip on Jongin’s hand gets tighter, and he touches Jongin’s face softly, to get him to meet his gaze. “You and Chanyeol… you’re here. In the now. You need to try. There’s nothing wrong with you trying.”

“I want too,” Jongin admits quietly, “I want him so much I think I’m going crazy for it.”

“Then what’s stopping you? It’s not me. But like I said, it could be the next Baekhyun, who swoops in before you do. And what happens then? I want you to be happy, Jongin.” Baekhyun says, and he scoots closer, barely a breath of space between them.

“But mostly,” Baekhyun says, barely a whisper, “I want you to get what you want.” He rubs the back of Jongin’s thumb softly. 

_ I want you to get what you want. _

Jongin thinks about Chanyeol’s face, the way the moonlight that comes in through the living room window casts him in full shadow. Jongin thinks about the imposing image Chanyeol cut before his eyes, on that first meeting, thinks about the arms that wrap around his body once a week for the last eight months, thinks about the neck he buries his face into.

The arm he sinks his teeth in.

Jongin thinks about the way it felt to be at Chanyeol’s mercy, body pinned against the wall, feet dangling off the ground. He thinks about a warm chest, plastered to his back, the air thick with sweat, with pheromones, with the scent of a _ wolf _.

He thinks about Chanyeol and how he just _ knows. _Knows when Jongin needs a touch, a call, a text, a word. Thinks about how Chanyeol feeds him out of his hand, sits him on his lap, watches the way Jongin moves in front of him, eyes calculated, gaze burning a hole past Jongin’s skin.

But mostly, he thinks about about Chanyeol is always _ there _. Within reach, fingers grasping against his shirt for purchase, against his skin for a punch, against his chest in sleep. Jongin thinks about how Chanyeol consumes him. How Chanyeol eats at him.

And he remembers the hunger that used to own him like a vice, the chasm in his stomach that he greeted like an old friend. And one memory of Chanyeol’s wistful smile, or the squeeze on his knee, and it’s enough to ground Jongin back to reality. He no longer exists to kill, and to drink. But he could exist to _ live _. 

Jongin sits on the bench in front of Baekhyun, and thinks about a future for he and Chanyeol. Thinks about moonlit dates, dinner, movies, _ dancing. _Thinks about walking on Pier 39 again, breathing in that stale cold air off Fisherman’s Wharf, watching the way the boats pass, the humans as the mingle, living their lives, not a thought or a care in the world. He thinks about taking Chanyeol to San Francisco, to Milan, to Belgium. Thinks about taking Chanyeol to all the places he lived in—thinks about visiting Père Lachaise Cemetery in Paris, and saying goodbye to an old friend.

_ To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all. _

Jongin thinks, _ Yes. They do. But not me. I’ll live. I’ll live this time and mean it. _

“You’re right,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “I wanna get what I want too.”

Baekhyun squeezes his hands.

Jongin runs his fingers through his own hair, pushing it off his forehead. “I’ve been living in… a self imposed cage… for so long. I really do… I want him _ so _much, Baekhyun. I want him more than I ever wanted anything else. I feel special when I’m with Chanyeol. I feel more than special, actually. I feel like I’m the only person in the entire universe.”

“Love does that to you,” Baekhyun says, laughing, “but why are you telling me this? You need to tell _ him _.”

Jongin jumps up off the bench. “You’re right—again, dammit. I need to tell him. Fuck, what if he doesn’t know? The last time I went to see him it wasn’t even for our… _ thing _ . I just showed up and took off my clothes. I laid in his bed. I asked him to _ hold _ me. Oh my God,” Jongin covers his face.

“Okay,” Baekhyun says, “there, there,” he tiptoes to pat Jongin’s head. “Let’s get you your man,” Baekhyun shouts, encouragingly. 

“Yes,” Jongin agrees, pausing. He looks up at Baekhyun. “But I need to buy a gift first.”

Baekhyun’s laugh trails behind Jongin on their walk back to the watch store.

***

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Baekhyun says, as he turns down the gravel dirt road to get to Chanyeol’s cottage.

“I’m sure of it,” Jongin replies, eyeing the watch that sits on his lap. This is not his most expensive purchase, per se, but it is the most he’s spent on another person in a long time. He hopes Chanyeol will like it, even though it feels like an impulsive purchase.

Baekhyun stops the car in front of Chanyeol’s house, the small set of steps lit up by the headlights.

“I feel like I’m dropping my child off to a booty call,” Baekhyun says, totally serious. “Should I be an angry dad? I can be an angry dad.”

“Shut the hell up!” Jongin says, covering his face, trying to stifle his laughter. 

“Oh, of course, Junmyeon’s the dad, he turned you,” Baekhyun pauses, lost in thought. Wait, then that makes me the mom!” he says, “Treat your mother with respect!” Baekhyun whines, “How dare you curse at me!”

Jongin slaps a hand across his forehead, “I cannot stand you.” He opens the door to get out of the car, as Baekhyun keeps making kissy faces at Jongin. 

“Give mommy a kiss!” Baekhyun says, “c’mere my big baby! Aw, they grow up so fast…” Baekhyun sighs wistfully, wiping fake tears from the corners of his eyes.

Jongin rolls his eyes but does in fact lean over to Baekhyun and plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Baekhyun says, as Jongin closes the door.

“That list is nonexistent,” Jongin rolls his eyes, as Baekhyun laughs in return. The sound fills him with confidence. He walks up the front steps, passing by the flowers, and waits until Baekhyun drives away before he knocks on the door. The gift bag carrying the watch dangles from his fingertips. 

“I should give you a key at this rate,” Chanyeol says, as he opens the door before Jongin even gets through the second knock. 

“Maybe you should,” Jongin says, coyly, pushing his way past Chanyeol and making himself at home.

“To what do I owe the honor?” Chanyeol asks, as Jongin shoves the watch bag towards him. 

“I got you a gift,” Jongin says in a rush, “Happy Belated Birthday, and early Christmas.”

“Oh, Jongin, you didn’t have too,” Chanyeol says softly, accepting the gift. He eyes the bag carefully, eyes bugging out when he sees the brand name on the side.

“Go on,” Jongin says, “open it.”

Chanyeol opens into the package softly, taking out a black box. They make their way to the kitchen table, where Chanyeol’s placed the gift bag down. Jongin watches Chanyeol’s face as he opens the watch box up, face overcome with emotions, eyes wide.

“Jongin, this is—”

“If it doesn’t fit, we can go back to the shop and get it sized together,” Jongin cuts Chanyeol off, voice coming out in a rush. “But I noticed you don’t really have a nice accessory to go with your outfits when you have werewolf campfire meetings or whatever, so I just thought I’d get you something nice. It’s just a watch.”

“Just a watch?!” Chanyeol blurts out, “Jongin, this is an _ Audemars Piguet _ , this is not _ just a watch _. This is—oh, Jesus Christ. This costs so much. Jongin, I can’t accept this.”

“Please,” Jongin says, pressing into Chanyeol’s space, “please, wear it for me. I want you too.”

Chanyeol looks at Jongin’s face, and looks down at the sleek, all silver watch that rests in the box. 

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, chuckling. He shakes his head. “I cannot believe you bought this for me. No one’s ever—this is so nice.”

“You’ve done more than enough for me,” Jongin replies, “things I can never repay you for.”

“Oh, Jongin…”

“Chanyeol,” he says softly, “cuddle me?”

Chanyeol’s smile is near blinding. “Of course I will.” He grabs Jongin’s hand and they walk towards the bedroom.

Jongin divests himself of all his clothes, just like the last time, and watches as Chanyeol does the same. It’s so comforting, just to lay down next to him, just to breathe in his aura, to fall in love with his scent. 

Jongin falls asleep like that, pressed against Chanyeol’s naked chest, his arms wrapped securely around Jongin’s body, the watch box placed gently on the dresser drawer on the other side of the room.

***

When Jongin wakes up, he is immediately met with warm breath across his face. 

“Hi,” Chanyeol says softly.

Jongin blinks his eyes open a few times, the lamp on the bedside table that Chanyeol turned on giving the room a soft, yellow glow. 

“Hi,” Jongin replies, rubbing his cheek against Chanyeol’s hand.

Chanyeol gets up off him immediately, and Jongin watches him move across the room, opening the top dresser of his drawer. 

“I wanted to wait until Christmas Day to give you this,” Chanyeol says, turning around, an envelope and a box in hand, “but I figured now’s a better time than any.”

Jongin sits up in the bed, covering his face. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Chanyeol raises an eyebrow at Jongin’s words.

“Okay, okay, touche.” 

Chanyeol hands Jongin the box first, and Jongin gently opens it up to reveal a golden baht chain, with a gold wolf pendant on it. “Chanyeol,” Jongin says.

Chanyeol snorts, “I know, subtle right?” he laughs, “I just put the wolf charm on there for laughs but… the baht chain is something I thought you’d really like.”

Jongin holds the necklace out in front of him, watches the way it catches in the light of the lamp. “It’s beautiful,” Jongin says softly, eyes never leaving the howling wolf charm. “Will you put it on me?”

“Right now?” Chanyeol asks, taken aback.

“Yes, please,” Jongin says, handing the chain to Chanyeol. 

It feels like more than a gift, as Jongin turns around, so Chanyeol can wrap it around his neck. It feels like more than a promise, too. It feels like, like— 

_ A claim. _

Jongin shivers, as Chanyeol’s fingers brush against the back of his neck. The howling wolf rests across his collarbone, facing upwards, as if looking for the moon. 

“There’s still one more,” Chanyeol says softly, and Jongin turns back around to pick up the envelope. He eyes it carefully. Chanyeol had done a good job to keep it very nondescript. He has no idea what it could be. Jongin rips the seal off the envelope gently, pulling out what seems to be cardstock. His eyes scan the front, before he drops them on the bed, a hand clasped over his mouth.

“Ch-Chanyeol,” he says, voice breaking. “You didn’t.”

Chanyeol laughs, a hearty sound. He places both hands on Jongin’s shoulders. “I sure did.”

Jongin picks up the tickets—tickets to see the annual performance of the Korean National Ballet’s _ The Nutcracker _, and holds them in his hands, reverent, shaking.

“How did—I didn’t think you even—you remembered… my story,” Jongin says, lamely. “I didn’t think you did.”

“I remember everything you tell me,” Chanyeol admits shyly. 

“There’s two tickets here on this purchase,” Jongin says. “Is that—”

Chanyeol shrugs, “I thought you’d like to go with someone. It doesn’t have to be me,” Chanyeol averts his gaze, and now it’s Jongin’s turn to laugh at him.

“There’s no one else I would rather go with,” Jongin says, voice leaving no room for argument. “There is no one else I would rather be with.” He tucks the tickets back into the envelope, putting it softly on the nightstand, before he jumps on Chanyeol fully, body a dead weight against Chanyeol’s chest. Jongin breathes in his scent, as tears fall from his eyes.

“You make me feel so important,” Jongin whispers, “like I’m the most important person in the whole world.”

“Jongin,” Chanyeol says, “would you like me to be honest?”

“Yes,” he says, and feels like this is the most vital moment of his life.

“You’re not a job to me,” Chanyeol admits, wholeheartedly. “You haven’t been for a while. I… I want you to be _ mine _. It’s different for wolves, you know. I’m not a human. There’s—there’s things that are just different.”

“Is this why you like it when I let you hold me?” Jongin asks softly, lightbulb going off in his head.

“I like it when you smell like me,” Chanyeol says, “wolves are territorial with everything. When you smell like me… it makes me feel… _ good _.”

“I like smelling like you, too,” Jongin says, feeling shy. “It makes me feel comfortable.” He stares into Chanyeol’s eyes for a long moment.

“Chanyeol, I want to be with you too. I really do.”

“‘Chanyeol,’ eh?” he snorts, “Don’t think I didn’t notice it that first time.”

“I was wondering why you didn’t say anything.”

“You were crying,” he admits, “that felt a little more important than me winning.”

Jongin snorts. “You’ve won nothing.”

“Au contraire,” Chanyeol says, rolling them over, so Jongin is underneath him. “I earned you.”

“Shut up,” Jongin smiles, “it was the other way around.”

“We will argue about this forever.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world,” Chanyeol breathes against Jongin’s neck, and Jongin feels heat prickle up his spine. The chain is a weight around his neck, a reminder.

“But first,” Chanyeol says, “there’s two more things I want to say.” Chanyeol gets up off the bed and out of Jongin’s grip. He starts divesting himself of clothes, tossing them to the side. 

“An Alpha werewolf… there’s a reason why I had you call me _ Alpha _ in front of my pack,” Chanyeol’s voice starts, and Jongin finds his eyes transfixed on where Chanyeol’s hands rest against his hips, as he lowers his sweats. “The only person allowed to refer to me like that, directly, is my _ mate _ . It was for my pack to understand our dynamic,” he says, “but mostly… it’s because _ I _wanted them to accept you too.”

He pulls his underwear off and tosses it to the ground, and Jongin is met with the sight of Chanyeol, fully naked, cock prominent even while only half hard. His eyes glaze over, and he traces the lines of Chanyeol’s abdomen, his thick arms and biceps, as Jongin stares, unashamedly, at Chanyeol’s broad chest. 

“I have a sixth sense for you,” Chanyeol admits, “ever since that first meeting. I kept staring at you, and it was like I was seeing you two different ways.” Jongin wants Chanyeol to walk closer to him, but he stays standing up, hands resting at his sides. “Sit up,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin drags himself to the edge of the bed, fixing the wolf charm on his necklace. 

“Alphas… I told you we heal. We are healers—doctors. Part of that power is transference through touch. Emotions, what not. I’ve done it to you a few times, when you’ve been anxious. It’s what I did to you every time we fought. Getting you upset or riled up brought it all to the surface. So I could take it away.” 

Chanyeol goes on his knees, in front of Jongin, hands resting on either side of Jongin’s legs. Chanyeol looks up at Jongin’s face, eyes soft. 

“Don’t tell me I’m reading this wrong,” Chanyeol whispers.

“You aren’t,” Jongin says, “When I said I want you… I really mean outside of the… therapy. In fact, can we get rid of it altogether? Can I stop referring to you as my therapist?” Jongin snorts.

“I was never your therapist,” Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “I’ve always just been your—”

“Alpha,” Jongin finishes, voice joining Chanyeol’s. He gives him a warm smile.

“I’m going to show you something about me—this is the second thing by the way. My wolf,” Chanyeol says. “We only ever… werewolves, we can shift on command with enough training, but the image of the wolf is _ sacred _. Only pack sees. Pack and…”

“A mate?” Jongin asks shyly.

Chanyeol nods. He stares up at Jongin. “This holds a lot of weight to me. You’ll be the only person outside my pack who’s seen my wolf.”

“Thank you,” Jongin sucks his bottom lip in his mouth, “for trusting me.”

“I think we both know this is more than just trust,” Chanyeol says wryly, before backing away from Jongin and crouching on the ground. Chanyeol takes a deep breath before an inhumane groan resounds around the room, and the sickening crack of bone fills the silence. In the space between a blink of an eye, Chanyeol’s crouching form on the floor has been replaced with the biggest animal Jongin’s seen. A dark brown russet colored wolf stands before him, at least six feet tall at the shoulder, and even longer in the tail. Jongin gasps, the wolf circling closer, and feels his internal hackles rise. He looks closely, unsure of how Chanyeol’s wolf will react, and is met with the same soft brown eyes as before. The wolf bows his head at Jongin, sitting on his haunches in front of him, nose running along Jongin’s neck. The wolf licks his cheek, and Jongin lets out a surprised laugh.

“You’re a good doggy aren’t you?” he snorts, and Chanyeol’s wolf makes a soft growling noise, like he’s understood exactly what Jongin’s said. He places his hand gently on top of Chanyeol’s head, scratching behind his ears softly, until Chanyeol nuzzles into the touch. Jongin scratches him with a little bit more pressure, and Chanyeol licks his cheek again, in nothing but delight.

“You’re a beautiful wolf,” Jongin says, before getting off the bed and onto the floor as well, and giving Chanyeol’s wolf a hug. His neck is right near Chanyeol’s mouth, where razor sharp teeth lie, but the thought doesn’t terrify Jongin at all. He runs his fingers through Chanyeol’s fur, the way it feels pillow soft to the touch. Jongin has never felt safer.

Soon enough, Chanyeol wiggles out of Jongin’s hold, stepping away from him, and curling into a ball on the floor. Just as quick as he turned into a wolf, there is a stunted growl and the sound of breaking bones, before Chanyeol’s human form is now lain on the same place, breathing hard and gasping. 

“Come here,” Jongin says, and picks Chanyeol up off the ground like he weighs nothing. He puts him on the bed and lays beside him, waiting for Chanyeol’s breathing to even out. 

“Thank you for showing me your wolf,” Jongin says, softly. “I know it—I know it’s important to you. Thank you for showing me.”

“He likes you,” Chanyeol blurts out, uncharacteristically, “actually he more than likes you, he lo—”

Jongin puts a finger to Chanyeol’s mouth. “Me too,” he says, as his gut twinges, on those unsaid words. On the tip of his tongue, waiting to be said. Chanyeol nods in understanding, and wraps his hands around Jongin’s body, pulling him close. Jongin rolls onto his back, and Chanyeol rolls on top of him, weight pressing down on him like a stone.

“I want you,” Chanyeol says, after they hold each other in a comfortable silence, minds both lost in thought. He’s digging his fingers into Jongin’s hips, and Jongin feels warm all over. “I want you spread open for me, want you wrapped around me, I want my fingers in your mouth… I want my cum inside you,” he admits.

Jongin groans, “A-A wolf thing? Or is that uh… a Chanyeol thing?”

“Little bit of both?” Chanyeol says, raising an eyebrow.

“I want it,” Jongin repeats, “Whatever you’ll give me. However you want to give me.”

“Really?” Chanyeol quirks an eyebrow up.

“R-Remember when we first met,” Jongin starts, breath coming out uneven, “and you… you said I would beg you. To… to you know.”

“What was that?” Chanyeol asks, “Use your words.”

“You’re an ass,” Jongin bites out, but there’s no real malice behind it. He feels so impossibly _ shy _. “You said I would… beg you to fuck me,” Jongin grits out, hungry. “I want that. I want all of it.”

“Jongin…”

“Please, Chanyeol, I want you to take me.”

“It’s… sex with a werewolf is _ different _. I said that to get a rise out of you.”

“I know about the knot,” Jongin says. “Sehun, remember?”

“Oh, Jesus,” Chanyeol says, covering his face. “Well… there’s another thing with wolves. There’s possessiveness. There’s… the aggression. I don’t want to scare you away.”

“You won’t.”

“But—”

“I want everything,” Jongin whispers, “I want all the things you have to offer. And more. Please. Please give it to me.” Jongin wraps his legs around Chanyeol’s waist, trying to pull him down.

“Jongin,” Chanyeol says, cautiously.

“You won’t kill me, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jongin says, mirroring Chanyeol’s words from so long ago. “I trust you.”

“You do?”

“More than anyone in this world.”

Chanyeol presses a soft kiss to Jongin’s temple.

“You can’t break me,” Jongin continues, “I don’t break so easily… But even if I did, it’s okay. Because it’s _ you _.”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, “okay,” he repeats. He kisses Jongin’s temple again, running his hands down the sides of Jongin’s body.

“I am going to _ fuck _ you, like you have never been _ fucked _in your life.” Chanyeol says, smirking, fully the imposing Alpha wolf he was on that first day.

This time, however, Jongin is not afraid.

Chanyeol pulls Jongin’s underwear off swiftly, tossing it off the bed as it joins the pile of clothes on the floor. 

“Look at you, you’re beautiful,” Chanyeol says, and runs the tip of his finger down Jongin’s chest, tweaking his nipples, before resting his palm on Jongin’s stomach. Jongin feels a flush rise to his cheeks, as Chanyeol’s words sink into his skin.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” Chanyeol breathes out, spreading Jongin’s legs impossibly wide. Jongin groans and the ache, and replaces Chanyeol’s hands with his own, hands on the back of his knees, displaying himself. He feels Chanyeol press his thumb against his hole, shutters at the touch alone. Jongin’s hard against his stomach, his cock curving against his belly. Chanyeol reaches across him, opening up a drawer in the nightstand, as he pulls out the biggest bottle of lube Jongin has ever seen. 

“We’re gonna need a lot,” he notes, at Jongin’s expression. “My knot.”

Jongin shakes his head in understanding, as he watches Chanyeol pour a generous amount of lube on his fingers, rubbing them together. The pad of his thumb grazes against Jongin’s hole again, and he clenches down on nothing but the ache to be filled. 

“Please,” Jongin says, breathless. He wants Chanyeol’s fingers inside him already. He wants to be worked open. 

“Please… whom?” Chanyeol says, eyes darting across Jongin’s face carefully.

Jongin gulps, recentering himself. “A-Alpha,” he whispers, “please… please finger me.”

“Of course, baby,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin inhales a sharp breath as Chanyeol pushes a first finger inside him. He moves it gently back and forth, his voice making soft murmurs. “You need to relax, Nini,” the nickname falls off his lips effortlessly, “deep breath and relax, let me open you up.”

Jongin inhales through his nose, and exhales out of his mouth. Chanyeol’s finger is a consistent feeling at his entrance, and he feels himself rocking back into the motion of Chanyeol’s hand. He soon changes it to two fingers, hands slick with lube, pumping in and out of Jongin’s body.

“F-Faster,” Jongin breathes out, holding his knees closer to his chest. He tries to push back against Chanyeol as much as he can muster, can feel himself start to pant when Chanyeol adds a third finger, too.

“Stop t-teasing!” Jongin whines, and his legs fall to the bed, but he keeps them spread wide. His hand rests on top of his stomach, as the muscles in his abdomen clench. His cock lets out precum from the tip, coating the head of his dick.

“I bet you could come from just me fingering you?” Chanyeol posits, “I bet you could do that, couldn’t you?”

“N-No I want you inside me,” Jongin says, gripping the sheets against the bed as Chanyeol’s thick fingers start to scissor him open in earnest. He feels more lube being poured on his hole, hissing as the cold liquid touches his flushed skin. 

“Who said I wouldn’t fuck inside you?” Chanyeol’s movements go faster, as he curls his fingers upwards, brushing against Jongin’s prostate. He bucks up off the bed, a screech on his lips, saliva collecting in his mouth. 

“I-I want—”

“You’ll come three times tonight,” Chanyeol says, and his voice is hard, all authority, “before I even push myself inside you.”

“Three?!” Jongin all but screams, as Chanyeol’s fingers work faster over his prostate, pace never slowing down.

“You can do it, baby,” Chanyeol says, “I know you can. For me.”

“F-For you,” Jongin groans, throwing his head back, white knuckling the bedsheet. 

“My fingers, my hands, my mouth,” Chanyeol says, voice rough, “I wanna see you break down completely. Cum for me, Jonginnie, you can do it.”

“Fuck!” Jongin groans, back arching off the bed as Chanyeol’s fingers still work over his prostate. His orgasm takes him by surprise, and he makes a mess all over his stomach in the process. Chanyeol removes his fingers from Jongin’s hole, and he whines at the empty feeling. There isn’t much time left for him to be sad though, as Chanyeol starts to lick Jongin’s cum off his stomach, before taking him completely in his mouth.

“Ch-anyeol,” Jongin moans, hands fixing into Chanyeol’s hair, as he starts to suck Jongin’s dick down, nose pressed against his skin. Chanyeol starts swallowing hard around Jongin’s cock, and he feels himself crying at the oversensitivity, at the way Chanyeol didn’t even give him a break in between. He feels more lube at his entrance, as Chanyol pushes his fingers back in again, the slow pressure against his prostate absolutely thrilling in comparison to the way Chanyeol deep throats him. Jongin whines, hard, in the back of his throat, a broken keening sound. He grips Chanyeol’s hair for something to hold onto, which only makes Chanyeol swallow him down even more.

Jongin starts to feel the tears around his eyes flowing more freely now, can imagine that his face is all red and blotchy from how much he’s been crying. In one fell swoop he feels himself cum down Chanyeol’s throat, body going rigid with pleasure, before collapsing against the sheets, completely taken out and exhausted. Chanyeol pulls off his dick with a loud wet noise, and rests his mouth against Jongin’s pelvis bone.

“I like seeing your tears,” Chanyeol says, and his voice is hoarse, “It’s kind of hot.”

“F-Fuck you,” Jongin murmurs, feeling completely out of it. Chanyeol sits up and runs a warm palm over Jongin’s cheek, presses soft kisses to his nose and forehead. 

“Do you want to stop?” he asks softly.

“No!” Jongin shouts, “No, it’s… it’s just been a while.”

“Oh, don’t say that to a werewolf,” Chanyeol warns, “it turns me on.”

Jongin rolls his eyes, “I cannot stand you.”

Chanyeol smiles at him fondly before rolling onto his back, “C’mon, get up here,” he motions to Jongin, “come sit on my face.”

Jongin doesn’t need to be told twice.

He eagerly moves his sluggish body over Chanyeol’s, positioning himself above Chanyeol’s face. 

“I don’t wanna suffocate you,” Jongin says, shyly.

“I’m a werewolf,” Chanyeol corrects, “it would take a lot more than a nice ass to hurt me.”

Jongin rolls his eyes, hovering over Chanyeol. His plan to lower himself slowly all but backfires when he feels Chanyeol’s strong grip on his thighs yank him down, and his insistent tongue pressing hot and hard against his already loose hole. Chanyeol moans and eats Jongin like a starving man, and all Jongin can do is brace himself against the headboard, holding on for dear life, as Chanyeol fucks him open with his tongue, absolutely no mercy.

Jongin cries out as Chanyeol leaves a hard slap against his ass, body rocking forward against Chanyeol’s mouth. Chanyeol squeezes Jongin’s thighs tightly, encouraging him to rock himself back and forth more against Chanyeol’s tongue.

“Come on,” Chanyeol breathes out, harsh, mouth covered in spit and lube, breath coming out in hard puffs. “Fuck yourself on my tongue. Touch your cock. Do I need to order you?” He raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Jongin says.

“No, _ whom? _” Chanyeol says, sly grin on his face. 

“Alpha,” Jongin breathes out, before fisting his already oversensitive cock, as he sits himself on Chanyeol’s face, thighs against Chanyeol’s ears. Jongin feels himself awash with a mix of pleasure and pain, as he continues to jerk himself off, while Chanyeol’s mouth works on him from underneath. Jongin casts a glance below, and studies Chanyeol’s face intently. His eyes are closed in concentration, and his face his red. Jongin tries to lift himself up but Chanyeol’s heavy hands are iron grips on his thighs, keeping him locked in place, Jongin cries out against the pleasure, as Chanyeol tongue fucks him open, and his pace on his own cock goes faster and faster until he spills over his hand with a low groan. He rips himself out of Chanyeol’s grip, body too over sensitive, situating himself on Chanyeol’s chest. He lifts his cum covered hand up to his face, expression in disbelief at the fact Chanyeol made him cum so much.

“Allow me,” Chanyeol says, and grabs Jongin’s hand before he can react, sucking his fingers and licking up all the cum off of Jongin’s hands. “You taste so good,” Chanyeol says between breaths, “taste like you were made for me.”

Jongin shivers at Chanyeol’s words, feeling lightheaded. He rolls over onto his back, exhausted, and Chanyeol follows him.

He coats his cock with more lube, before spreading Jongin’s legs wide, and pushing himself into Jongin’s loose, puffy hole. Jongin cries at the feeling of being split open on cock, hooks his legs around Chanyeol’s back to pull him even tighter against his body.

“You feel so hot around me,” Chanyeol breathes, “I wanna keep you here forever.”

“Fuck me, fuck me,” Jongin whines, body shaking with the power behind Chanyeol’s thrusts.

“I wanna fill you up with my cum, I wanna watch it leak out of you, I wanna eat it out of you,” Chanyeol groans, his voice rough.

“How can you—_ fuck _—say these things?” 

“I’m an Alpha,” Chanyeol smirks, and Jongin has just enough time to roll his eyes once more before completely succumbing to the power behind Chanyeol’s thrusts, body going limp as he lets Chanyeol completely own him. Chanyeol licks at the skin of Jongin’s neck, teeth gently nipping. He inhales Jongin’s scent, like he’s trying to absorb him via osmosis. Jongin runs his hands in Chanyeol’s hair, looking straight into his eyes. He sees Chanyeol looking back at him with the softest expression.

“I love you,” Chanyeol says, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to Jongin’s nose. The contrast is so stark it takes Jongin by surprise, and he feels a familiar pressure in his gut building up once again. Chanyeol’s thrusts start to become slower and slower as it becomes harder for him to pull out, and Jongin starts to cry as he feels himself being stretched open to his limit.

“Shhh, shh, baby,” Chanyeol says, “you’re doing so well, you take my knot so well, shh, shh, it’s okay.”

“S-So full,” Jongin grits out, “s-so full.”

Chanyeol pulls one of Jongin’s hands off his face and places it on his stomach. “Suck in,” he commands, and Jongin follows.

“If you press down,” Chanyeol continues, “I bet you could feel my knot. Do you feel it? Do you feel how I fill you up? This is all because of you, baby. You make me so hard, you’re so hot like this. And all for me, all for me.”

“Yes,” Jongin cries out, as Chanyeol’s knot has finally locked them in place, “only for you, for you.”

Jongin cups Chanyeol’s cheek, looking into his eyes softly. “You make me want to live again,” he murmurs, pouring every single emotion into that sentence he can, imbuing those words with all he can offer. Chanyeol has given him a piece of himself back. Chanyeol has reminded him there is so much more to life than just to exist. 

Jongin lays himself bare, right here, on this bed, with no fear. He spreads his legs wider because he wants too, and cups Chanyeol’s cheek like his life depends on it. He inhales that dark, woodsy scent that follows Chanyeol’s every move, lets Chanyeol’s touch wash over his body like a balm.

Jongin closes his eyes and lets himself be free.

_ I love you. I love you. I love you. _

“I love you,” he says at last, eyes open, “I love you so much.”

He feels Chanyeol tense up above him, before he starts cumming, filling Jongin’s body with his warm cum. Jongin feels himself drunk on Chanyeol’s scent, feels his body thrumming with desire for his wolf.

Chanyeol holds him close, arms wrapped around Jongin’s slender frame, settling on his skin like the most comfortable blanket in the world.

***

The arrival of Christmas Day a week later is met with heavy fanfare. 

Jongin wakes up, his back covered in heat. Chanyeol’s got his chest plastered tightly to Jongin’s back, arm slung over Jongin’s waist tightly, keeping him in a protective cocoon. It feels nice to wake up like this, in his arms. Jongin wiggles, trying to get himself free. That only makes Chanyeol’s grip around him tighten more, and hot breath fan across the back of his neck.

“Hmm,” Chanyeol mumbles.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” Jongin says, “it’s Christmas.”

He pushes his ass backwards, feeling Chanyeol’s morning wood against his lower back. Blood rushes up and colors Jongin’s cheeks, thinking about the night before. He and Chanyeol had fucked for the first time in Jongin’s room at his house last night, after a few days locked up at Chanyeol’s cottage. 

Baekhyun had blown his phone up, Junmyeon not far behind him, and Jongin could only spare a few minutes between dickings to reply with a simple _ busy. see you later _ each time. For Junmyeon’s peace of mind, and in preparation for their Christmas celebrations, which they all decided to have at Jongin’s house anyway, Chanyeol had spent the night for the last two days. Chanyeol’s pack would be over later in the afternoon, closer to the evening, when the sun had set and the party and festivities could really begin. Jongin had come up with the idea as a sort of spur of the moment thing, considering he felt bad that Chanyeol would miss out on his pack’s Christmas party to spend time with him. Of course, the other reason is that Jongin just didn’t want to spare a moment away from Chanyeol, so having a joint party was the obvious decision. Junmyeon was a bit hesitant at first, but after some nefarious needling by Baekhyun, Jongin was happy he eventually came around and agreed to host the party.

Jongin had thought it would have been weird for Chanyeol, staying in a house with three vampires, for the last few days, but Chanyeol took it all in stride, which is just code for saying he stayed in Jongin’s bedroom unless it was absolutely pertinent for him to come outside. At Jongin’s behest, of course. The last thing he needed was for Baekhyun or Junmyeon to see him getting all lovey-dovey with his boyfriend. 

_ Boyfriend _, Jongin thinks, the thought still makes him so giddy inside, a blush rising to his cheeks. He pushes back on the bed, against Chanyeol’s length, and Chanyeol lets out a groan, now wide awake. 

“Insatiable, aren’t you?” Chanyeol murmurs, breath ghosting across the shell of Jongin’s ear. 

“Yes,” Jongin says honestly, and then turns in Chanyeol’s hold, to face him. “I’m hungry,” he whispers. 

Chanyeol rolls flat on his back, pulling Jongin on top of him. He pushes his sleep pants down enough to expose his hard cock, precum at the tip. Jongin grabs the lube from the nightstand, putting some on his fingers and shoving three inside himself, still loose from how much they fucked the night before. And the night before that. And nearly every day the entire week leading up to Christmas, too. Jongin snorts.

“What’s so funny?” Chanyeol asks, as he pulls Jongin’s body forward so he can situate himself on Chanyeol’s cock. 

“Just thinking about how we’ve been fucking nonstop for like a week, since that first night.”

“Like I said,” Chanyeol repeats, and fucks up into Jongin when the head of his cock catches against Jongin’s rim, punctuating a whine to fall out of Jongin’s mouth, “you’re _ insatiable _.”

“Only for you,” Jongin groans, bouncing on Chanyeol’s lap, falling into rhythm so easily.

“You look so good bouncing on my dick, you were made for this,” Chanyeol groans, putting his hands behind his head, letting Jongin do the work. He pulls his head to the side, baring his neck. “You said you were hungry,” Chanyeol intones, “go ahead, _ eat _.”

“With pleasure,” Jongin moans, fangs descending in his mouth, as he leans down and sinks his teeth into the supple skin of Chanyeol’s neck. Chanyeol wraps his arms around Jongin’s back, one of his hands keeping Jongin’s head in place against Chanyeol’s neck. Jongin can feel the way Chanyeol’s cock throbs inside him as he drinks, knows how incredibly turned on Chanyeol gets from being fed on like this. He starts fucking up into Jongin in earnest now, as Jongin drinks from Chanyeol again. 

One of these days, Jongin will ask Chanyeol to _ bite _ him in return, on the neck, just the way he bites Chanyeol. He thinks maybe Chanyeol will like that idea, thinks maybe even if it doesn’t _ take _, the visual of seeing his mark on Jongin’s body will be enough to drive Chanyeol wild. Jongin hopes it does.

He comes soon after that, belly full of Chanyeol’s blood, and he detaches his fangs from Chanyeol’s skin, licking up over the wounds. He leans back, sitting on his thighs, as he starts fucking himself harder on Chanyeol’s cock, rocking back impossibly fast, feeling Chanyeol’s knot catching against his rim until it can no longer come out. 

“Come for me, Chanyeol, come for me,” Jongin pleads, hips moving in figure eights. “Come for me, come for me, just do it for me, please,” Jongin begs, and Jongin watches as Chanyeol’s eyes squeeze shut so tight as he gasps, coming inside Jongin and filling him up. Chanyeol immediately presses his hands over Jongin’s belly.

“Suck in your stomach,” he commands, and Jongin listens.

Chanyeol presses down with his fingers prodding Jongin’s belly, as his cock still pushes cum deep inside Jongin’s body. “This is where I’ll fuck my pups in you, this is how I know you’re _ mine _,” Chanyeol whispers. Jongin moans, voice cracking at Chanyeol’s words, before Chanyeol reaches up and pulls him down into a tight embrace, Jongin’s sticky cum on both of their stomachs.

“Fuck it, I love you,” Chanyeol whispers, fingers coming up to touch the baht chain that Jongin has kept on since he got it. “Fuck it, I really do. I really do.”

Jongin bites at Chanyeol’s shoulder, not enough to draw blood, but enough to show a mark. “I love you, too,” he says softly, “I love you, too.”

***

They wake up again, closer to the evening, after fucking through the morning. Jongin thinks in hindsight he’s never spent a better Christmas morning then the one he spent with Chanyeol, doing nothing but being taken in every position he could think of all over his room. Thank god the walls are sound-proofed, Jongin remembers, _ Thank God. _

A loud rapping starts at Jongin’s bedroom door, before it is unceremoniously shoved open.

“Merry Christ—Oh, what the fuck it smells like semen in here,” a familiar voice says, and Jongin throws the bedsheet off himself, now fully awake because—

“Sehun!” He shouts launching himself at his best friend, finally in person. 

“Merry Christmas ya filthy animal!” Sehun says, before making a face as he finally looks at Jongin, who is clad only in a pair of ratty boxers.

“You are disgusting,” Sehun says, “how many times have you guys fucked?”

“We—”

“In the last few hours only,” Sehun adds, and Jongin remains silent.

“Go and take a fucking shower, you reek.”

“Hey, Sehun,” Chanyeol says, from the bed. The sheet falls down a bit to reveal his chest, which is now covered in fang marks. 

“Did you let him _ maul _ you?!” Sehun screeches, “Is he teething or something?”

“Fuck you!” Jongin says, and all Chanyeol can do is laugh.

“We do need to shower though,” Chanyeol laments.

“Yes,” Sehun agrees, “But not together!” He amends, “or else you will be in the shower forever!”

“Damn it,” Jongin pouts, before Sehun frog marches him to the bathroom by himself. Jongin can only hope Sehun doesn’t mentally scar Chanyeol _ too _ much. Well, without him there, of course. Jongin lets the spray of the hot water cover him, dunking his head under, closing his eyes. He makes quick work of washing his hair, scrubbing his body down as much as he can, and even though Chanyeol did in fact _ eat _his own come out of Jongin during the third—or was it fourth?—time they had sex earlier, Jongin sticks his fingers inside his loose hole anyways, cleaning himself out as much as he can. It feels in a way like a fruitless endeavor, considering he’s just thinking about the next time he can have Chanyeol inside him. But Jongin also wants to smell good for him as well, and it’s that thought that makes him scrub at his skin harder, eager to come out of the shower smelling his best.

He dries himself fast, before rubbing lavender lotion all over his arms, legs, and thighs. Jongin sees Sehun threw him some clothes in the sink to use, so Jongin makes quick work of it, getting himself dressed and ready to face the rest of the guests, many of who might be here already. He pulls the ugly Christmas sweater on over his head, before pulling his chain out from under it and displaying it proudly over the sweater. Jongin hasn’t seen the pack in so long. He wants them to notice the chain. He wants them to understand that he’s serious about Chanyeol. Committed absolutely.

Jongin walks out of his connecting bathroom and bedroom, before closing his door. He already hears Christmas music playing as he walks out to the living room, and is met with many familiar faces and some not so familiar as well.

“Merry Christmas!” Jongin says, to everyone at large, and they all reply in kind. Jongin goes around, saying hello to the members of Chanyeol’s pack who came by, and thanks them for coming. 

“I’ll be honest,” Jongdae says, “When Chanyeol said Christmas party at a vampire’s house I didn’t think it meant actual house.”

“Where did you think we lived in then?” Jongin asks, already rolling his eyes at Jongdae’s antics. It’s amazing for Jongin to think the last time he saw Jongdae was when Jongin himself almost died.

“I don’t know. A lair?”

“Is a lair not just a fancy name for a home?” Baekhyun adds in, popping up behind Jongin. He extends his hand out to Jongdae. “Byun Baekhyun,” he says, introducing himself.

“Kim Jongdae,” he replies, lips curved upwards in a smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“I think that pleasure is all mine,” Baekhyun says saucily.

“Okaaay,” Jongin says, “I’m leaving.” He backs away from the two of them, eyes scanning the room for Chanyeol. He walks towards the kitchen, where the smell of human food fills his nose, and bumps into Kyungsoo, taking something out of the oven.

“Hey Kyungsoo,” Jongin says softly, “Merry Christmas!”

Kyungsoo offers him a small smile in return. “You as well,” he replies, plating what looks like lasagna on a cooling rack.

“I don’t think we’ve ever used that oven before honestly,” Jongin says, leaning against the counter.

“I know,” Kyungsoo says, “the product seal was still covering all the racks. How long have you lived here again?” His tone is even, but the slight raise of the corners of his mouth gives him away.

“Funny,” Jongin says, rolling his eyes. “Can I eat some of this?” he points at cookies in the basket near the cooling rack. Kyungsoo shrugs. “Where’s Chanyeol by the way?”

“Outside,” Kyungsoo says, before giving Jongin a look of disgust as he shovels cookies into his mouth, “he’s helping Kris with the grill.”

“Ah,” Jongin says dreamily.

“You seem a lot better,” Kyungsoo says peacefully, “a little more… grounded.”

“Thanks,” Jongin replies shyly, “that means a lot.” Kyungsoo nods before going back to heating up the rest of the food he and the wolves brought over. Jongin has always wanted the approval of Chanyeol’s pack, and even though it’s been quite a while, the reassurance from the members themselves really makes him feel good about himself.

Jongin finds himself outside, in the backyard, the backlight on, and a grill he has never seen before cooking up the last of the barbecue.

“I didn’t know we had a grill here,” Jongin says.

“You don’t,” Kris snorts, as he puts chicken in a tupperware. “I brought this from my house.”

“Well, thank you, Kris,” Jongin says softly in Mandarin, and watches the way Kris’ eyes light up in remembrance. They have a short conversation like that, Jongin trying to remember the sounds and shapes of Chinese as it flows from his mouth. He’s incredibly rusty, but he thinks if Chanyeol’s pack is around a lot more he’ll pick it up again in no time.

“There you are,” a voice says from behind Jongin, and he turns to see Chanyeol wearing the same ugly Christmas sweater with a big wolf on it that Jongin’s wearing. 

“I see Sehun has a great sense of humor,” Chanyeol replies, opening his arms, and Jongin falls into his embrace. 

“I missed you,” Jongin says, rubbing his cheek against Chanyeol’s chest.

“Well, Sehun corralled me. I was ambushed to unload his and Johnny’s rental that was literally filled to the _ brim _ with presents. Jesus,” Chanyeol wraps his arms around Jongin’s body in a hug, “I missed you, too.”

Before Jongin can reply, Kris snorts from behind them. “God, this is too much, even for me.”

“_ Can _it, Wu,” Chanyeol says, but there’s no bite.

Kris raises an eyebrow at Chanyeol, laughing. “Damn, he’s got you good.”

“He does,” Chanyeol admits, brushing Jongin’s hair out of his face. “He really does.”

“Finally,” Kris says, letting out a sigh of relief, “at least the rest of us can stop having to endure the poetic waxing about how beautiful Jongin is at pack meetings, and now we can focus on the important stuff, like, trying to figure out where Jongdae keeps getting GTA cheat sheets from.”

“Lu Han,” Chanyeol answers.

Kris rolls his eyes, “That bastard…” he mumbles, “of course.”

They fall into a comfortable silence, as Jongin takes the full tupperware of barbecue from Kris, watching as he shuts off the grill.

“Come back inside morons,” Sehun says, poking his head out of the back door, “we are hungry and it is almost _ present _time!” He closes the door tightly.

“He still gives me the same headache as always,” Kris mumbles, “Poor Johnny.”

“He loves it,” Jongin says, as they make their way back into the house. The smell of different delicious foods fill the room, the aroma making Chanyeol’s stomach grumble next to Jongin. 

“What?” Chanyeol says, at Jongin’s laugh. “I expended a lot of energy today,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“This is sickening,” Kris says, pushing past them, taking the container of chicken out of Jongin’s hands and bringing it to Kyungsoo. Junmyeon finally makes his appearance a moment later, looking haggard, but not totally worse for wear. 

“Merry Christmas everyone!” Junmyeon says, clasping his hands together. “Thank you for joining me, Baekhyun, and Jongin for the holidays. This is definitely something different… but I hope we will all have a happy time together. Please, no funny business. These couches are brand new. And if you need to brawl out a fight, go fight in the yard, my rug is cashmere. Anyway, let’s get this started!”

Jongin laughs along with Junmyeon’s words, and the party progresses from there. Everyone digs into the wide array of food, most of which was cooked by Kyungsoo, as jokes and stories are passed back and forth between wolf and vampire. Jongin didn’t ever think such a thing was possible, but the heat of Chanyeol’s body right next to him, and the occasional spoon in front of his mouth, feeding him many of the choice dishes Chanyeol has spread on his plate, is enough to let him relax into the friendly and familial atmosphere, letting the din of his family and his friends wash over him. Jongin catches Sehun’s eye a few times during the night, and they exchange soft smiles. 

During a lull in the conversation, and after Johnny had gotten up from Sehun’s side to go to the bathroom, Sehun motions for Jongin to follow him. They end up outside, on the porch, leaning against the back bannister. Neither of them are wearing clothes for the cold weather, and Jongin watches the way Sehun’s breaths come out in tiny puffs. 

“It’s been a long time,” Sehun says, breaking the ice. His gaze is stuck on the sky, a crescent moon hanging above.

“It’s been a really long time,” Jongin agrees, sitting himself down in one of the plastic chairs outside.

“I’ve been thinking,” Sehun says, sitting down beside Jongin and locking their gazes together. 

“About what?”

“Everything,” Sehun says, “it’s been so long since we talked, you know? Timezones, work, life. Everything gets in the way.” Jongin nods in agreement, it really has felt like such a long time since he’s spoken to his best friend.

“If you wanted to come with me—with us—to San Francisco, and stay with us for a while, you can. I’ve talked about it with Johnny. He said it’s okay if you ever need to drink from him. Just to catch the flight,” Sehun chuckles softly. “There’s a whole world over there.”

Jongin balks at Sehun’s offer. It feels so surreal now. A flash of his life rolls in front of his eyes, and Jongin can see himself, sinking his teeth into Johnny’s neck, walking in the sunlight, getting on a flight, landing in San Francisco and never turning back. He can see himself in the distance, living his life in the United States, wandering, maybe just as aimlessly, but thousands of miles away from the pain of the past. He thinks maybe, in another life, he would have said _ yes _. He thinks maybe, even when Sehun initially went, if Jongin had been given the chance, he would have gone too.

Or maybe he thinks, _ I would have still been too scared to go _.

Jongin smiles, head turning back to the closed door of the house, where he knows Chanyeol is at, sitting on the couch, waiting for Jongin to come back, with arms wide open. 

And he already knows his mind is made up.

“Sehun,” Jongin starts, “thank you for offering… but. I’m going to have to say no.” Jongin chuckles to himself, but it is not unkind. “I’m… I’m so happy here. I didn’t think it was possibly to feel this happy. I didn’t think I ever would. I’ll be okay here, Hunnie. In fact, I think I’ll be better than I’ve ever been.”

Sehun reaches a hand out and squeezes Jongin’s knee. “That’s the answer I wanted to hear.”

“You were testing me?” Jongin snorts.

Sehun shrugs, “Something like that.” They settle into a comfortable silence, and Jongin lifts his gaze up, to look at the moon and the stars all over again. Remembers that fateful night he died and was reborn again. Remembers all the nights he _ died _, and all the times he got back up and lived.

Jongin thinks maybe he’s finally really _ living _, after it all.

“He showed me his wolf,” Jongin murmurs, voice low, sharing a secret, “I know how important that is to him. He’s so important to me.”

Sehun lets out a low whistle. “Wow, I’m speechless,” he says, “but I’m proud of you. Don’t forget, my door is always open,” Sehun says, “you and Chanyeol should come visit us sometime.”

Jongin smiles brightly. “I’ll hold you to it.” He lays his hand on top of Sehun’s, squeezing his fingers.

“Hey, baby,” Johnny’s voice cuts through their moment, “we’re opening presents now.”

“Be right there, sugar,” Sehun says, and Jongin watches the way Johnny fondly rolls his eyes. They both get up and head back into the house, Jongin taking his place back at Chanyeol’s side on the couch. 

“Everything okay?” Chanyeol whispers into Jongin’s ear, a shiver racing up his spine. 

Jongin looks at the scene in front of him, Sehun tearing into all the gifts Johnny got him, while Junmyeon and Baekhyun are having a competition between each other to see who bought the other the most expensive gift. To Jongin’s surprise, Kyungsoo and Jongdae are both egging them on, hyping up the unwrapping, while Yixing, who must’ve arrived a little late, is teasing Johnny on the sheer amount of _ things _ that have Sehun’s name on them. Jongin smiles to himself at the scene, a sense of calmness washing over him.

“It’s never been better,” Jongin says, cuddling up into Chanyeol’s warmth. “It’s never been better.”

***

“That show was amazing,” Jongin says, wiping tears from his eyes, holding Chanyeol’s hand so tightly in his that if Chanyeol was a human he’s sure his fingers would be broken already. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Chanyeol says, pulling up the collar of his jacket, as they push their way through the crowd, exiting out of the Korean National Ballet’s Christmas performance. Hordes of people surround them closely, everyone trying to get out quickly to either greet some of the performers who have come outside to say hello, or to be the first to rush to their cars so they can get out of the parking lot without having to wait too long. Jongin continues gushing about the show, a rendition of _ The Nutcracker. _

“I know it’s a classic,” Jongin says, “but seeing this modern rendition was just mesmerizing. You know, I was there when it was first written,” Jongin says, tone entirely serious. Chanyeol looks at him, incredulous, stopping in his tracks.

“Oh good,” Jongin continues, “so you are listening to me,” he blushes. “I thought I was just saying gibberish.”

“I always listen to what you’re saying,” Chanyeol reminds him softly, his hand coming up to rub against Jongin’s cheek. Jongin leans into the touch, before they keep walking, now out of the main hall and into the entrance, the exit just a few meters away. The crowd seems to thin out just a bit, a much needed reprieve, as the smells and tastes of different blood fill the air. It’s been a long time since Jongin’s been out in a packed, public place like this. Chanyeol’s grip on his hand is grounding, and tight.

They make it to the sidewalk, off to the side, away from people, but still a bit aways from Chanyeol’s car.

“Would you,” Chanyeol says, voice shy, and Jongin turns to him, voice stopping midway through another praise about how wonderful the show was, to turn to his boyfriend.

“What is it?” Jongin asks.

“Would you dance for me? Not right now but… one day?” Chanyeol asks softly, eyes not looking at Jongin.

Jongin grabs his face, and meets Chanyeol’s gaze. “Yes,” he says, “I would love to dance for you. I would love for you to see me. Even if I’m rusty.”

“I bet you’ll still be beautiful,” Chanyeol says truthfully, and Jongin blushes.

He surges forward and kisses Chanyeol under the moonlight, wrapped up in his big arms, snuggled close in his warm embrace. Chanyeol’s hands automatically make gentle circles against Jongin’s back, and even through the layers of clothing, Jongin can still _ feel _ Chanyeol’s warmth.

Throngs of humans walk by, their perfume and their blood making its way into Jongin’s nose, pulsating in its scent. Jongin can smell the feverishness of the blood around him, can almost feel the thumping of the hearts of the strangers that walk right by them. He can nearly taste the frantic gleam in their veins, can almost imagine sinking his teeth into every single neck, hunger building and building, _ unrelenting. _

And yet it feels like eons ago, when blood could make him crazy enough to lose control.

Because all he can think about is the man in front of him—the man who gave him his passion back, his lust back—his _ love _back.

“Are you hungry?” Chanyeol asks, weary, knowing the influx of human blood around Jongin still makes him anxious. 

“Chanyeol,” Jongin replies, a hand resting on the back of Chanyeol’s neck. He counts the minutes, counts the seconds—feels like hours. Watches the way Chanyeol leans his cheek into Jongin’s open palm, affectionate. Jongin looks at Chanyeol’s eyes, his gaze transfixed on the necklace Jongin wears. A mark Jongin will never take off. He revels in that gaze, finds himself lost in it.

“Quite contrary,” Jongin continues, and Chanyeol’s eyes flit up to meet Jongin’s. He gazes into Chanyeol’s beautiful brown eyes, lost, taken, mesmerized. “I’ve never been more _ full _.” 

Chanyeol kisses the smile right off Jongin’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading. i hope you enjoyed this fic! as always, please leave kudos, comments! tell me what you liked <3  
i hope to continue writing fic for chankai, and especially for other jongin ships this year. stay tuned for more from me in 2020~
> 
> have a wonderful day. ❤️

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed this! please don't forget to comment and kudos and tell me how you liked it! 
> 
> <33


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